The Spider and the Fly
by Orangejolius
Summary: Stan and Kyle are at the beginning of a new relationship while trying to navigate their futures. Will an unexpected person from the past disrupt everything, and how will they deal with the fallout? Kyle is grappling with the potential loss of innocence and the way desire can warp you from the inside out, while Stan can only stand by and try to make sense of a senseless situation.
1. Chapter 1

**"Will you walk into my parlor?" said the spider to the fly;**  
 **"'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy.**  
 **The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,**  
 **And I have many pretty things to show when you are there."**  
 **"O no, no," said the little fly, "To ask me is in vain,**  
 **For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."**

 **-The Spider and the Fly: A Fable by Mary Howitt**

"I can't believe school is starting again already. It feels like summer never even started," Stan grumbled. He picked up a reasonably flat stone and tossed it into Starks Pond; it failed to skip.

Kyle looked up from his phone with a frown. "Dude, you've been complaining about how bored you've been for the past 3 months. I mean, at least with school starting you have something to do."

"Yeah, like homework and bullshit," Stan replied, rolling his eyes. "I can't wait." He threw another stone in the water; it didn't skip either.

"I like studying," Kyle said, simply. He went back to scrolling through Facebook, not paying attention to the dirty look Stan shot his way.

"Well, good for you." He walked over and sat on the bench next to Kyle. He was silent for a time, watching the later afternoon sun sliding towards the mountains framing the horizon. His left leg jiggled against Kyle's; clearly, he was agitated. Kyle ignored that too.

"So, I guess this means that you'll be even busier than usual." He said, bumping Kyle's leg harder.

Kyle glanced up from his phone, slightly irritated now. "I guess so. I'll have college applications to do and I'm also going to be tutoring a couple days a week like last year."

"And volunteering at the hospital again, right?"

"Well, yeah. I have to get my feet wet if I'm going to go to medical school someday. And volunteering -"

"Looks good on college applications. I know, I know." Stan finished for him in a huffy voice.

"Well, it does!" Kyle snapped. "You know, we're juniors now, Stan. You should probably start thinking about your future, too. Do you even have any plans?"

"Of course I have plans, Kyle. I want to be with you." He looked away and Kyle could see that his face was bright red. He softened a bit and reached for Stan's hand. Stan looked at him from the corner of his eye.

"That goes without saying. But you need to have a goal for yourself...like, what do you want to be? What do you want to accomplish? What will you do while I'm performing vasectomies and making rounds and going without sleep for days at a time?"

"God, I don't know. You have your whole life mapped down to the minute and I barely know what the hell I'm doing from day to day."

"You get decent grades, Stan, so you have options. You just have to figure out what you're interested in."

"I'm interested in you," Stan said gruffly and looked away again. Now he was blushing so hard that his face looked like it was on fire.

"Oh, my god, Stan, that was so freaking lame. I can't believe you actually just said that." Kyle started laughing so hard he started to cough. Stan looked at him w/ amused annoyance.

"Okay, okay. Yeah, that was soap opera level crap but give me a break. I'm still new at this." He draped his arm behind Kyle on the bench; Kyle scooted closer to him, still laughing to beat the band.

They had only officially been going out since the summer started, after years of secret crushes and longing and agonizing indecision. For the longest time neither of them were able to process their feelings for the other, let alone articulate or act on them. It wasn't until they had stolen a few beers from the fridge in Stan's garage and gotten pretty wasted that either of them had made a move. It had been the very first night of summer and the sun hadn't even sunk completely behind the trees yet; twilight had begun to bleed across the sky w/ fuzzy stars winking to life one by one & insects humming softly in the grass. They had walked together to Starks Pond, the stolen booze hidden inside of Kyle's messenger bag, quiet and thoughtful; both of them excited at the prospect of having stolen the alcohol but also giddy about the school year finally being over.

Kyle was wearing a thin t-shirt and could feel the night breezes stirring against his skin, which felt flushed and warm from the summer sun. He had decided to go without his hat because it was just too warm to wear it that day, and it had been retired to the upper shelf of his closet. The breeze lifted a red curl from his forehead and threw it across his eyes. Brushing it away, he had glanced at Stan curiously. He had his usual stoic look and had gone without his hat too. Their shoulders had brushed together every few steps and Kyle remembered being scared to death that Stan would notice and move away; he didn't.

They had reached the pond as the sun was setting across the water, throwing brilliant golden light across its surface. It had dazzled their eyes and Kyle could remember Stan saying how beautiful it was. He could also remember making fun of him for being so whimsical and Stan pushing him and laughing. They had nervously cracked open the beers and taken huge gulps, Kyle sputtering and coughing because he wasn't used to the flavor. Stan, who was old hat where alcohol was concerned laughed hysterically to see Kyle doubled over, his face red and his eyes tearing up. He had rubbed Kyle's back in a placating way and Kyle could remember the delicious tickling sensation that fluttered in his stomach at the contact.

Later, as the moon rose and the fireflies had begun to glow in the trees, after they had each indulged in at least two to three beers each and were feeling mellow and slow-witted, they had sat on the grass at the edge of the pond and talked about the summer ahead. Stan was dodging his father who was on his ass to get a summer job, and Kyle was going to get a jump on the summer reading list as soon as possible. Stan told him he was totally lame and to lighten up and Kyle pouted. Stan had rubbed his arm and told him he was only kidding and Kyle told him to fuck off, suddenly feeling very sad for a reason he couldn't articulate.

Stan had hastily tried to apologize and told him that he actually thought it was cool how dedicated Kyle was to his education and how he wished he could be as responsible, and then maybe his parents wouldn't nag him so much about applying himself. Kyle had finally snapped at him that he didn't give a crap about that and he was actually upset about something else.

"Well, what is it, then?" Stan was still rubbing Kyle's arm absentmindedly.

"It's that!" Kyle responded, glancing down at Stan's hand. Stan had blushed and snatched his hand away.

"What? I was just trying to be nice." Stan looked away and crossed his arms, suddenly closed off. Kyle felt bad at the change in Stan's mood, knowing he caused it and that he wasn't really being fair. How could Stan possibly know why he was upset?

"Look," Kyle said, "I'm sorry that I'm being weird. I just have a lot on my mind right now."

"What is it? What's going on?" Stan asked, opening up a little.

"Well, I guess I'm just, uh...confused." He sounded lame, even to himself.

"Confused." Stan repeated the word, but not as a question. "I can relate to that."

"You can?" Kyle asked, puzzled.

"Definitely. I'm confused all the time." He smiled.

"Probably not for the same reason I am."

"Oh, you'd be surprised, Kyle." Stan responded, his smile turning into a smirk. Kyle was irked by his cavalier reaction to what he considered was a very serious problem.

"Would I, Stan? Would I be surprised?" Kyle grabbed another beer and angrily twisted the top off. He began chugging it like there was no tomorrow. Stan just stared at him, his eyes wide.

"Dude, what's your deal right now? Just tell me what's wrong so I can fucking help you already." He grabbed Kyle's arm and pulled the bottle away from his mouth. Kyle jerked away.

"You can't help me because you're the problem, you moron!" Kyle yelled, slamming the bottle down, and soaking his hand in beer in the process. Feeling stupid, he brought his hand up to his mouth to lick the beer away. Stan caught it before he was able to bring it to his face and brought it to his own instead. To Kyle's complete and utter shock he started licking the beer away himself, his tongue slowly moving across his skin. His skin burned like fire where Stan's tongue had made contact and he felt goosebumps rising all over his body. An overwhelming shiver moved through Kyle and he closed his eyes, trying to stay tethered to reality. The feeling mixed with the intoxication from the alcohol and he felt like he was flying into the sky to float among the stars; every molecule in his body writhing in what could only be described as ecstasy. A moan escaped his lips.

Stan watched him, his dark eyes narrowed and predatory. After hearing Kyle moan he seemed to become braver; he licked along the back of Kyle's hand, up his fingertips, and then turned his hand over and kissed the palm lightly. Kyle could only stare at him, mouth agape. His heart was pounding a frantic rhythm in his chest. What was even happening right now?

"Stan..." he started to say something but his voice faded away. Stan was still holding onto his hand, looking deep into his eyes, his face flushed and insistent. He reached out and ran his hand through Kyle's hair and down the nape of his neck, and his hand came to rest there. Suddenly, he was drawing Kyle closer to him and Kyle was sure that he was about to kiss him; he allowed himself to be pulled closer. Their mouths were inches apart when Stan stopped. He drew back, his eyes searching Kyle's face.

"What?" Kyle asked, irritated at the abrupt change in Stan's eyes. Now he just looked confused.

"I was waiting for you to tell me to stop, I guess." Stan said, gruffly.

"Why would I want you to stop, you knob? Do you really think I would've let you do all that if I wanted you to stop? Are you for real?" Kyle jerked away and walked to the edge of the pond. The moon had risen and was icing the surface of the water in white. His mind was a jumble of confusion and excitement. He jumped when he felt hands on his shoulders, and Stan's voice right next to his ear. His heartbeat was hammering in his chest again; in fact, his whole body was on edge just having that voice whispering in his ear.

"I just didn't want to go any further if you didn't want me to. I was afraid you weren't saying anything bc you didn't want to hurt my feelings or something."

Kyle turned around and looked into Stan's face, and was surprised to see so much sadness there; his blue eyes shadowed and distant. Throwing caution to the wind, he stood on his tiptoes and kissed Stan's lips softly, his hands reaching for his shirt and clinging to him. He kissed him again a little harder, and finally, he lightly licked Stan's lips, tasting beer there, and they parted, and his tongue delved inside and the kiss deepened. Kyle felt like he was drowning, but he couldn't have stopped himself at this point even if he wanted to. He could feel Stan's hands tangling themselves in his hair and pulling him closer, until their bodies were pressed tightly together, so close that -

"Oh, my god, Stan, are you -" Kyle pulled away, blushing and flustered. Stan just seemed confused, eyes wide. Kyle glanced down at the front of Stan's pants and then looked away quickly, feeling shy all of a sudden.

Stan seemed to put two and two together and started laughing. "Well, yeah, dude. What'd you think was going to happen?"

"Well, not that, necessarily," Kyle sputtered, "I mean, yeah, I've thought about it but now that it's happening and I'm right here and we're talking about it..."

"Calm down, Kyle. You're not exactly...relaxed here yourself." He nodded his head slightly and smirked.

Kyle pulled his shirt down as far as it would go. "Cut it out, this is already super awkward and weird."

"Only because you're making it that way. You were just putting your tongue in my mouth like 45 seconds ago and you seemed just fine."

Kyle glared at him, still pulling his shirt down over the front of his pants. "What are we even doing right now, anyway? I think it's pretty obvious how I feel but I never know with you because you insist on being so inscrutable."

"Inscrutable, me? I just put the moves on you because I've been beating around the bush for like 2 years now and I couldn't take it anymore. You're the one who pretends everything is normal and like you don't notice all the little hints I've been dropping forever."

"Why didn't you just come out and tell me how you felt if I'm so clueless?" Kyle snapped.

"Yeah, like it's really that easy." Stan rolled his eyes. "But, fine, if that's what you want. Look, i like you. I really like you and, well, I don't just want to be your friend anymore, okay? Is that clear enough for you or did you need more convincing?"

Kyle could feel his face growing hot and now his heart was pounding so hard he was becoming dizzy. He turned away because he couldn't look at Stan anymore, with his naked emotions right there on his face. A cool breeze brushed against his face, feeling blessedly cold against his burning cheeks and he felt himself starting to calm down a little. Slowly, Stan's words were beginning to sink in so he could process them, and he dared to hope that everything would be ok; that what he wanted could actually happen. His breath caught in his throat when he felt Stan's arms circle around his neck, and he was being pulled against his broad chest.

"So, what do you think? Am I being crazy here?" Stan murmured against Kyle's hair. Kyle could feel tears starting to burn his eyes and he didn't know why; maybe a combination of the booze and being suddenly so tired, he wasn't sure. He gazed up at the stars and slowly brought his hands to rest on Stan's arm encircling him, and he clutched him softly. He shook his head slightly.

"No, you're not being crazy. I just didn't think this could ever happen. Never in a million years, actually. I don't even know if I can believe any of this is happening."

Stan chuckled softly and nuzzled against Kyle. He held him closer. "Dude, I am so glad we decided to steal booze, get wasted, and confess our forbidden passion for one another tonight. I'm having a great time."

"I wasn't aware that's what we'd be doing, but hey, since we're getting everything out in the open," Kyle laughed, "why the hell not? I'm so glad I don't have to keep pretending I'm not watching you undress in the locker room."

"Well, now you went and made this super awkward, dude." Stan hugged him closer anyway.

They had ended up spending all night next to Stark's Pond, drinking multiple beers and just talking until the sun glimmered and rose over the mountains. They had parted on Kyle's street with a quick and breathless kiss and he hadn't even minded too much when his parents reamed him out for being gone all night and not calling. He'd ended up being grounded for two weeks which also didn't bother him too much because he'd been able to finish up the summer reading and mull over every detail of his night with Stan. Every kiss, every confession, every second; he'd turned them all over in his mind and analyzed them from every angle. The memories had left him deliriously happy one second and terribly embarrassed the next. What if it was just the booze making Stan say those things? What if he pretended the whole thing had never happened?

He'd agonized over what would happen next every second of his punishment. When he was finally free and could leave the house he wasn't sure what he should even do. Call Stan? Just stop by his house and knock on the door? He had nearly fainted when he opened his front door and seen Stan hanging out on the front steps, just relaxing and playing on his phone.

"Uh, hey." Kyle had said, feeling shy.

Stan put his phone in his pocket and stood up, smiling. "Hey. The guys were thinking of going over to the park and playing some basketball. You in?"

Kyle had nodded and it had felt completely natural when Stan held out his hand and he'd taken it. It had also felt so right when they'd shared a soda at the park and Stan had put his arm around him like it was second nature. Kyle felt a crazy rush of euphoria just from feeling him pull him closer into a one-armed hug, in front of everyone. Naturally, they'd had to deal w bullshit comments from their friends (Cartman, especially), but it didn't take away from their happiness. He couldn't believe how quickly everything was moving...like they'd always been together.

He wished he could say that they'd spent every day of summer together but life naturally intervened. Kyle had always been really dedicated to his studies and one day going to medical school so even in summer he had a pretty full schedule. Through his father's connections he'd managed to land an internship in a urology office and actually got to sit in on a couple of surgeries. Kyle was on the fence about the more stomach-turning parts of practicing medicine but after seeing actual live procedures being performed he was even more excited about being a doctor. He'd also signed up to be a counselor at a day camp being held at the rec center and did some odd jobs around his father's office. Sometimes he was so busy that days passed at a time and he didn't even get to see Stan.

Stan, to his credit, was super supportive of Kyle's future plans but that didn't mean he didn't become noticeably perturbed when he couldn't see him as often as he would've liked. Kyle obsessively checked his phone to see if he'd received a text from Stan and felt a pang of guilt when he saw that he'd missed a call from him. There was even a night where he crept out of his house after midnight to meet Stan; risking the wrath of his parents and potentially being grounded again. He couldn't help it; he just had to see him.

Whenever the rare moment came around where he had nothing to do he'd rush to Stan's house and they'd spend hours in his room, Kyle curled up in his bed and being kissed everywhere his clothes didn't cover. They had gotten dangerously close to going further than Kyle really felt comfortable with, but Stan was understanding about him wanting to take things slow. In fact, he thought it was a good idea.

"There's no use rushing things. It's not like I'm going anywhere," Stan had said as he kissed along Kyle's neck and rubbed his thigh through his jeans. Kyle was practically panting he was so turned on, and he gladly opened his mouth when Stan kissed his lips and parted them with his tongue, where it explored his mouth so warmly and imploringly. After seeing Stan and writhing against him in his sun-drenched bedroom with the fan whirring softly, stirring the papers on his desk and ruffling the dust motes in the air, he'd go home and touch himself w Stan's name on his lips. He'd moan and imagine Stan's face, and then he would come hotly into his hand; sad that he wasn't there with him but elated that one day Stan would be doing this to him and it wouldn't just be a fantasy.

After all that had happened Kyle wasn't surprised that Stan was agitated about school starting and having to spend even more time apart than they already did. They'd gotten their schedules and were happy to see that they shared the same lunch, but other than that they only shared AP English together. Ever since they had started high school Kyle was always in the advanced classes. That didn't mean Stan was a poor student; he just wasn't as focused on his studies as Kyle.

"Well, you'll be playing football again this year, right? So I won't see you bc of your practices and stuff," Kyle pointed out.

Stan kicked at the ground. "That's true. It's just that now that we're, you know, together, I just want to spend every second with you." He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "I know I'm being too clingy but I can't help it."

"I think it's sweet," Kyle said softly. He placed his hand on top of Stan's and squeezed it gently. "Look, I'll try to make as much time for us as possible, okay? Even if I'm not with you all the time that doesn't mean I'm not thinking about you."

Stan turned to him with the dying sun glinting off of his dark hair and smiled. "Same here."


	2. Chapter 2

**I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed**  
 **And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.**  
 **(I think I made you up inside my head.)**

 **God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:**  
 **Exit seraphim and Satan's men:**  
 **I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.**

 **-Mad Girl's Love Song, Sylvia Plath**

The first day of school dawned hot and humid. Kyle was sweating as soon as he got out of the shower and he was feeling pretty gross by the time he made it to Harbuck's to meet Stan, Cartman, and Kenny to grab coffees before heading over to the school. He sat down at their table and Stan handed him his usual; an extra large vanilla latte with a triple shot.

"Dude, you should just break down and get an iced coffee or a frap or something. It's too hot to be drinking that," Cartman said, stuffing a huge breakfast sandwich in his face.

"Ugh, iced coffee. I seriously don't understand drinking coffee that isn't hot." Kyle replied, taking a sip of his drink. Stan wiped foam from his upper lip and smirked. "Dude, you're so picky."

"Jesus, can you guys give it a rest already? We haven't even started the school year yet and i'm already sick of you two." Cartman said, rolling his eyes. "I'm just glad that only one of you is in my homeroom so I don't have to deal with this every single morning."

"Back off, Cartman," Kenny said. He took a sip of a small black coffee. "Did you guys hear that that weird dude Mark moved back to town?"

Kyle's ears perked up at the name. "Mark? That homeschool kid? He's back?"

"Oh, my god, that guy is the best! Remember when he kicked your ass, Kyle? That was awesome!" Cartman started cracking up.

"Shut up, Cartman," Stan glared at him. "Are you for real, Kenny? Did he really move back to South Park?"

"I mean, I saw him when I was working at the gas station this summer. Him and his sister came in a couple of times." Kenny shrugged. "I just assumed they had moved back."

"This isn't good," Kyle groaned. "That dude hates me."

"Well, you did totally hit on his sister, man." Kenny remarked while squirreling away splenda packets in his pocket.

"I didn't hit on her. I just thought I liked her. I mean, she was super smart and I thought she was cute at the time." Kyle took the lid off his latte so he could stir in a little more almond milk. His thoughts drifted back to elementary school and...Rebecca, was that her name? Yes, Rebecca. At the time he had thought that she was really sweet and he had liked the fact that she seemed so smart and focused on her studies, much like himself. It wasn't until later and his subsequent ass-kicking at the hands of her brother that he'd realized that it was more of a passing curiosity. Now he couldn't imagine being attracted to her bc he was so tangled up in his feelings for Stan, and had been for a long time. He speculated that maybe he had transferred his actual longing for Stan onto her bc he had thought that she was what he was supposed to like. Who even knew anymore; he just didn't want to deal with her psychotic brother again.

"They seemed normal enough, I guess," Kenny was saying as Kyle broke from his thoughts. "They're still super close and awkward but other than that I didn't notice anything weird."

Stan pulled his phone out of his pocket to glance at the time. "Come on, you guys, we better hurry. We have like 15 minutes."

They all gathered up their bags and drinks and headed out of the Harbucks, the oppressive heat slamming them all in the face. For a fleeting moment Kyle wished that he had actually purchased an iced coffee instead but thought better of it; iced coffee was sickening as far as he was concerned.

"I'll meet you right here after class and we can walk to the cafeteria together, okay?" Stan was saying as Kyle slammed his locker shut. For the first half of the day they didn't have any classes together so they were going to be separated for the next couple of hours. Kyle nodded and pulled his messenger bag onto his shoulder. He leaned into Stan's kiss on his forehead, feeling glum. He missed him already.

"Don't forget, okay?" He asked, grinning.

"Don't be dumb, dude. I'll probably get here first." Stan replied, backing away.

"I'm going to hold you to that."

"You do that." Stan smirked and turned away. He waved over his shoulder as he hurried away to his homeroom. Kyle sighed and walked slowly into his own homeroom, scanning the room for a place to sit. In the corner Cartman was reading a comic book and eating chips and Kenny was sitting in the middle of the room, his head on his desk. It looked like he was trying to sneak in one last nap before the school year officially started. Kyle walked over and deposited his bag on the desk in front of him.

"Well, this sucks," Kyle said as he sat down. "We're all in here together so that means that Stan is going to be in homeroom all by himself."

Kenny yawned but didn't open his eyes. "He'll be fine, Kyle. You may not realize this but Stan is a big boy and he can take care of himself."

"I'm aware of that, Kenny. I was just saying, is all."

"Uh huh." Kenny folded his arms under his head, his eyes still closed.

"Hey, Kyle! Psst!" He turned around to see Cartman gesturing towards the door. Glancing over, his heart started to thud in his chest. Mark was standing there, looking bored. He had gotten a lot taller and his hair was styled differently but it was definitely Mark Cotswald. Kyle quickly looked away before he could notice him staring at him. He could hear Cartman laughing hysterically in the corner.

"What is that fat ass laughing about now? I'm trying to sleep here." Kenny grumbled, opening his eyes and sitting up reluctantly. He looked towards the front of the room and his eyes widened. "Dude, Kyle, it's Mark."

"Yeah, I already noticed that, Kenny. Hey, switch places with me so I can hide behind you." He started to pick up his bag when he noticed Kenny giving him a disgusted look. "What?"

"Dude, for real? What kind of man are you? You really want to hide behind your friends instead of just facing him? He kicked your ass like 10 years ago...I doubt he gives a shit about some petty crap that happened in elementary school."

Kyle flushed and set his bag back down. He knew Kenny was right but he still didn't want to just sit there and wait for Mark to go nuts on him again. "It wasn't 10 yrs ago. It was more like 8..."

"So? It still happened when we were all dumb kids. Just relax and stop making a big deal out of nothing. Goddamn."

Kyle gulped and sat back in his seat, trying to calm down. Realistically, he knew what Kenny was saying was true but he still felt unsettled. He hadn't seen Mark since he'd moved away from South Park the summer after 3rd grade, but he could still remember how unhinged he'd become when he found out that Kyle was interested in his sister. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead & he tried to take deep breaths to alleviate his anxiety but he still felt really nervous. He nearly jumped a foot out of his chair when the bell suddenly rang. He could hear Kenny snickering behind him and his hands clenched into fists under his desk.

"You need to calm the fuck down already. Why are you freaking out like this over something that happened years ago?! This guy probably doesn't even remember you. Get a fucking grip!"

He willed himself to relax, at least outwardly, but kept tabs on Mark in his peripheral vision as he made his way to a desk on the far side of the room. Thankfully, he didn't seem too interested in anyone else as he sat down, his attention focused on his phone instead. The rest of the period passed smoothly with the morning announcements blaring over the PA system and students asking questions about their schedules. Kyle idly checked his phone (being careful not to let the teacher see; one of the announcements had been about cracking down on phone usage in class that year) and was happy to see a text from Stan:

Is it time for lunch yet? ;)

Kyle couldn't help but smile stupidly as he responded:

God, I wish. You'll never believe who's in my homeroom.

The bell rang before Stan could respond. Pulling his crumpled schedule out of his pocket, Kyle checked to see where he needed to go next.

"What's your next class?" Kenny asked.

"Physics, great. I was hoping to have that class later in the day. I'm not even really awake until third period." Kyle groaned.

"Lucky you. I'm off to History," Kenny replied, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "I'll catch you and Stan at lunch."

"Cool, see you later, man." Kyle stood up and joined the crush of students as they made their way out into the hallway, taking care to stay as far away from Mark as possible. Mark still seemed completely engrossed in whatever was going on on his phone and didn't even bother to look up for the most part. Kyle hurried down the hallway, trying to avoid being elbowed in the face or carried away in the tide of students. He was thankful that the school didn't really seem as large as it used to, and he had no problem finding his next class. He wasn't surprised to see Wendy already waiting when he stepped inside. He imagined they would be sharing the majority of the same classes and knew that she was even more cutthroat about grades than he was. She nodded at him as he walked in and sat down next to her in the front row.

"Let me guess, you're taking nothing but AP courses this year?" She asked. She didn't bother to say good morning, of course.

"Naturally. You?"

"Yup." She pulled out her textbook. He noticed that there were already bookmarks and post-its sticking out of it. She'd probably read the whole thing and done all of the assignments already; he wouldn't put it past her. "I've heard this course is pretty tough so I wanted to come prepared."

"I don't really see you having any issues." Kyle remarked, pulling out his pristine textbook. He hadn't even opened it yet.

One by one the other students filtered in, with Butters and Token among them. The bell was just about to ring when Mark walked through the door, making Kyle immediately tense up. He drifted towards the back of the classroom and out of Kyle's line of sight.

"Hey, are you okay? You look really pale all of a sudden." Wendy whispered.

"Uh, I'm fine. I just feel a little tired." Kyle replied.

"Well, if you say so." She looked over her shoulder. "Who's that new guy? He looks really familiar but I don't know why."

Kyle swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to answer, but the teacher called the class to attention before he could respond. The teacher went through attendance quickly (Mark's "here" was exceptionally languid and disinterested, Kyle noticed) and jumped into the syllabus with very little preamble. It looked like AP classes were going to be all business this year; he could feel the air of tension coming from Wendy. Clearly, she was all business this year, too; no doubt vying for the coveted spot of valedictorian. Kyle groaned, already feeling tired.

The period seemed to fly by due to the teacher's intensity and before Kyle could take a breath another bell was already ringing. The rest of his morning passed in much the same way; bells ringing, overzealous teachers, and Mark walking into the room at the last moment, making Kyle's heart start pounding like mad. Wendy was indeed in almost all of his classes and they usually sat next to one another, conferring over notes and bouncing questions off of one another. Before he knew it, he was back at his locker waiting for Stan to walk to the cafeteria together. He was pouting when Stan finally rounded the corner.

"What's up with that face?" Stan laughed.

"You said you'd be here first, jerk." Kyle crossed his arms huffily.

"I got held up in Earth Science, dude. Relax." He put his arm around Kyle's shoulders. "I'm here now, aren't I? Loosen up; you're so tense."

"I'm always tense."

"Tell me about it." They started walking, Kyle leaning against Stan's side.

"Sorry I didn't get a chance to text you back...this morning has been crazy. Who's in your homeroom?"

"Oh, just Mark," Kyle replied. "In fact, he's in all of my morning classes. I guess I'm just lucky, huh?"

"It makes sense, though. I mean, he's a brain like you are, right? Of course he would be in all of your AP classes." Stan rubbed Kyle's head playfully. Kyle batted him away, annoyed at the gesture and his flippant attitude.

"The school year just started and everything is already ruined for me. That psycho is going to beat me to a pulp and you're here trying to be funny about it."

They arrived at the cafeteria and made their way to the snack line, where they could buy pizza and cheese fries instead of the usual school fare. They waved to Kenny who had staked out their favorite table from last year, his brown lunch bag laid out in front of him. Cartman was there too, scarfing down nachos. Butters, Craig, and Jimmy would probably join them before too long.

Stan fished his wallet out of his back pocket while Kyle grabbed a tray. "I'm not trying to be funny about anything, Kyle. I just think you need to lighten up about this. That crap with Mark happened when we were little kids...he probably doesn't even remember anything about it."

"God, you're starting to sound like Kenny." Kyle slammed a carton of chocolate milk down on the tray.

"Well, if that's what Kenny said maybe you should listen to him. He's just being logical." Stan reached up and took a slice of pizza out of the window. He put it back when he saw Kyle wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Sorry, I forgot you hate pineapple on your pizza."

"It's evil," Kyle said. "Just like iced coffee it doesn't make any sense."

"Like I said before, you are way too picky, dude."

"I can't help it if I like things a certain way." Kyle responded haughtily.

They paid for their food and sat down at their table. Cartman had finished the nachos and moved onto a huge strawberry cupcake. Kenny was munching on an apple and looking longingly at Cartman as he demolished the cupcake in two bites. Kyle slid a Coke over to Kenny wordlessly and he gratefully took it.

"Okay, one garden salad with no tomatoes, and a slice of plain, boring cheese pizza with no pineapple or pepperoni," Stan said as he handed Kyle his food. Ignoring him, Kyle primly drizzled vinaigrette on his salad. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar person entering the cafeteria.

"Jesus fucking Christ, there he is again! I can't believe this!" He said, throwing his fork down. "This is unbelievable!"

"Wait, what? What's unbelievable?" Stan followed Kyle's furious look, his eyes settling on Mark as he walked across the cafeteria, once again engrossed in his phone. "Dude, is that Mark? He's gotten so tall." He took a big bite of pizza.

"He looks like he's waiting for someone," Kenny chimed in.

Mark had stopped in front of a row of vending machines and was looking around expectantly. A smile slid across his face as a girl bounded up to him, her long brown hair falling down her back. Kyle couldn't see her face but he had a feeling he knew who she was.

"Damn, is that homeschool's sister? She got like, super fucking hot, man." Cartman said in between bites of tater tots.

The girl turned towards them and Kyle's worst fears were confirmed. Both Rebecca and Mark were back in South Park and now they were all going to the same school. He groaned. "You guys, this is terrible. I have to deal with those two psychos at the same time." He hid behind Stan as Mark and Rebecca walked through the cafeteria and out the side doors to the lunch tables in the courtyard. Rebecca had grabbed a hold of her brother's arm and was holding it closely.

"What's the big deal?" Stan asked. "So they've moved back to town; why are you losing your mind over this? Besides, if anything happens, I'll protect you." He grinned.

"That's so reassuring," Kyle said, rolling his eyes. "I know I'm probably freaking out over nothing and being totally paranoid and ridiculous, but I just can't help it. I have so much going on this year and I just don't want any extra, unnecessary stress."

"Then why don't you take some pressure off of yourself? You always do this, dude. You overload yourself with super hard classes and extracurricular crap and then you have a nervous breakdown by the middle of the year. Not to mention you drive the rest of us crazy in the process." Stan opened his carton of milk and took a sip. Butters and Jimmy came over carrying trays and sat down before Kyle could formulate a response.

"Hey f-fellas. What's the h-h-happs?" Jimmy said, cheerfully. Butters plunked down a brown lunch bag and a stack of books. Soon after their arrival Craig and Clyde showed up too, setting down lunch trays and bags.

"Hey, did anyone else notice how fucking fine that homeschool kid's sister got since we were kids?" Clyde asked. He was sporting his letterman jacket and a bottle of Mountain Dew. He and Stan were both on the football team but Clyde liked to show off that fact more than he did. He'd been going out with Bebe off and on since they were kids but they were always fighting about one thing or another. Usually it had to do with Clyde flirting with other girls so it made perfect sense that he was the first person to bring up Rebecca.

"Wait, is she in your classes?" Kyle asked, puzzled. Clyde was taking all remedial courses due to the fact that he didn't give two shits about schoolwork or studying.

"Yeah, she's in a few and I have to tell you, she is looking pretty good these days." Clyde replied, a wolfish look on his face that thoroughly annoyed Kyle.

"I thought she was supposed to be super smart or something." Stan remarked, seemingly reading Kyle's mind. "Why is she in your classes?"

"Fuck you, dude." Clyde said, taking a giant drink of mountain dew. He exploded with a massive belch a few seconds later.

"Hey, didn't that homeschool kid kick your ass in 3rd grade or something, Kyle?" Craig asked with his usual tact.

"Yes, Craig, he did." Kyle responded in annoyance.

"Who's the h-homeschool kid, fellas? Fill me in." Jimmy asked. He hadn't moved to South Park until after Mark and Rebecca had already moved away so he'd never met them.

"We met him back in 3rd grade during this big spelling bee," Stan explained, rubbing Kyle's leg soothingly under the table. "His parents homeschooled him for his entire life so he was super weird and awkward and we gave him a really hard time about it after he started going to regular school with us. Kyle had a crush on his sister, Rebecca, and her brother kicked the shit out of him when he found out because he thought Kyle corrupted her."

"I know why they moved back!" Butters chimed in out of nowhere, smiling around at the table obliviously. "I help out in the office in the morning and I overheard Mark talking when he came in to pick up his and his sister's schedules. Their parents got a divorce and they decided to come back here with their mom."

"Well, that makes sense, I guess." Kyle said. "I just hope they both leave me alone."

"Dude, you're just being paranoid. Just let it go and leave the past in the past where it belongs." Stan said.

"I call dibs on homeschool's sister!" Clyde said, eyeing everyone at the table like he was challenging them. Kyle just sighed and went back to eating his salad.

Kyle's classes in the afternoon didn't pass nearly as quickly as they had in the morning. The only bright spot was AP English because he shared the class with Stan. They sat next to each other and exchanged goofy notes the entire period, laughing silently as the teacher droned on about what she expected from them that year and what books they would be focusing on. Mark wasn't in this particular class which helped improve Kyle's mood even more.

He was exhausted by the time the last bell finally rang. He practically dragged himself to his locker where Stan was waiting so they could walk home together. On their way out of the building they passed by Clyde and Rebecca who seemed to be having a pretty one-sided conversation, with Clyde leaning against the wall and leering at her. Rebecca just seemed puzzled and a little flustered; her cheeks flushed a cherry red. Mark was nowhere in sight.

They stepped out into the oppressive heat, Kyle holding up his hand to shade his eyes from the sun. Stan took his other hand and held it loosely as they walked through the courtyard.

"Clyde sure works fast, doesn't he?" Kyle said.

"Yep, he always has. I'm sure he's going to be having a huge blowup with Bebe before too long." Stan replied.

They turned onto the street right in front of the school where the sidewalk was shaded by huge elm trees. Kyle was relieved to be out of the sun and could feel sweat dripping down his back. He couldn't wait to get to Stan's house and into the air conditioning. He also couldn't wait to get there because Stan's parents were both still at work and wouldn't be home until almost 7:30. Shelly was away at college so that meant that the whole house was theirs for the next couple of hours. It was during these long, warm afternoons that they could curl up in Stan's bed away from prying eyes and just be together.

"I'm glad we decided not to tell our parents about us for the time being." Stan said as they turned onto his street. "That way I can have you all to myself for awhile and I don't have to worry about them nagging me or whatever about being home alone." He squeezed Kyle's hand and smiled at him.

"We'll have to tell them eventually, right? If we don't somebody else is just going to do it...you know how nobody in this town can mind their own damn business." Kyle was actually surprised that nobody had let slip that they were a couple already. All of their friends knew for the most part and people were always running their mouths.

"Yeah, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, I'm just enjoying having you in my bed with no interruptions." Stan responded as they walked up to his front door and he pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. Kyle flushed at his words. He had always been more bold and open about the things they did together up in Stan's bed, while Kyle was more reserved and shy. Stan could easily tell him everything he'd like to do to him, while Kyle would think dirty thoughts he could never possibly say.

They stepped into Stan's house, which was blessedly cool and dark; the curtains drawn against the heat and sunshine blazing outside. The only sounds were the lone ticking of a clock in the kitchen and the humming of the fridge. Stan dropped his bag on the couch and headed for the kitchen.

"I'm gonna grab a water and something to eat so we can just head upstairs. What do you want? We have diet coke, lemonade...?"

"I'll just take a lemonade," Kyle said, starting for the stairs. "Do you mind if I borrow one of your shirts? I feel so sweaty and gross."

"Sure, take whatever you want. I'll be up in just a second."

Kyle ascended the stairs and went to Stan's room, shutting the door behind him. He quickly shed his shirt and threw it on a chair, relishing the feeling of the ceiling fan throwing cool air across his damp skin. Goosebumps rose along his arms and his back as he rifled through Stan's dresser. He didn't bother to turn around when he heard the door open and close behind him, and continued to search for something to wear. He was just about to pull a shirt out of the drawer when he felt Stan's arms wrap around his stomach slowly. A moment later, Stan's lips were on his shoulder, trailing kisses along it and up his neck. Kyle shivered and leaned back against him, closing his eyes.

"You know, you don't really have to put a shirt on. I'm just fine with how you are right now," Stan murmured, his lips very close to Kyle's ear. His warm breath on his skin almost made Kyle moan, and he reached out to grab the dresser because his knees felt a little weak.

"I'm actually a little cold now," Kyle responded in a breathy voice. "With the, uh, fan and air conditioning on, you know?" His whole body seemed to flush as Stan continued to kiss along his ear and neck and shoulder. Kyle was beginning to feel so turned on that he could barely form a coherent thought. Stan ran a finger under the waistband of his boxers, teasing the skin there; he also decided to bite Kyle's shoulder softly. Now Kyle really couldn't think clearly.

"I think I can keep you warm enough, babe. I'm really not worried about that. Come here." He led him to the bed and Kyle sat on its edge, looking up at Stan expectantly. Stan took off his shirt and kicked off his shoes, and Kyle saw how his jeans were slung low on his hips; the waistband of his plaid boxers standing out starkly against his pale skin. He walked over to where Kyle was waiting for him and pushed him onto his back, his head resting against the pillows. Stan laid on top of him, cradling Kyle's face in his hands as he kissed him slowly and deeply; his tongue licking his lips open and then exploring his mouth. Kyle could feel Stan's firm stomach resting against his own, and he arched his back so that the entire length of his abdomen and groin were pressed tightly against Stan's.

"Mmm, you feel so good." Stan said, softly. He was running his fingers through Kyle's hair. Slowly he slid his tongue along the column of Kyle's throat, nipping his skin lightly with his teeth every now and again. Pleasure bloomed in Kyle's stomach and he almost felt hazy and drugged from what Stan was doing to his body. He didn't mind that Stan usually took control like this; if anything, he preferred it and reveled in the way he seemed to take possession of not only his body, but his mind. It was almost like he was a drug and Stan couldn't get enough of him; and his hands and mouth would rove possessively over every inch of Kyle's form.

Stan moved down Kyle's throat, leaving kisses on his collar bones and down along his chest. He moved slowly down Kyle's abdomen, licking and kissing the faint ginger hair that trailed from his navel down to the edge of his boxers. Kyle felt so overwhelmed that he almost didn't notice that Stan was beginning to undo his belt buckle, and with a trembling hand he reached out to stop him.  
"No, I-I'm not ready for that yet, Stan." He said.

"I wouldn't say that," Stan responded, smiling darkly. He sat up and his hand came to rest on the front of Kyle's jeans, startling him as he squeezed the area gently. He gasped at the sensation of being touched there, as he had never allowed Stan to do it in the past. It was very obvious that he was incredibly aroused, and he seemed to become more turned on as Stan gripped him a little tighter; almost possessively.

"You feel very ready to me."

Kyle turned his head away, feeling the cool pillow on his cheek. He couldn't look at Stan while he was touching him like that, and he could feel himself blushing. "That's not what I meant. I just..."

"You just what? Kyle, you're driving me crazy here. I've been patient and waiting since the beginning of the summer...I don't know how much longer I can stand it." Stan said, his hand not budging. His voice had a slight edge to it that made Kyle nervous.

"I'm not trying to upset you, I just think we're moving too fast."

Stan sighed. "Okay, okay. Look, what if I just touch you over your boxers? Is that okay? You don't even have to take off your pants...I'll just push them down a little."

Kyle peered at him out of the corner of his eye, considering. "Well, I guess that would be alright. But you can't look, okay? You have to promise."

"Fine, fine, I won't look. Although, trust me, you don't have anything I haven't seen before." Stan replied.

"That may be the case but I just don't want you looking at me yet. I still have to get used to all of this." Kyle pouted.

"I know, baby. Now hush and let me enjoy this."

Stan lay on the bed next to Kyle after he was finally allowed to undo his belt and nudge his jeans down over his hips. Once again, he placed his large, hot hand on Kyle over his boxers, making him whimper slightly as he adjusted to the sensation of having his cock stroked by someone other than himself. He was so aroused that he could barely stand it, and as Stan closed his hand around him and started to pump along his shaft slowly, he thought he was going to pass out because it just felt so good. Feeling almost hypnotized, he raised his hips slightly, pressing himself into Stan's hand even more.

"See? You like that don't you?" Stan said huskily, and he started to move his hand faster. "Come here, I want to kiss you as you come." He reached his hand around Kyle's head and turned his face towards him, hungrily kissing his lips as he continued to stroke him. The heat increased in Kyle's body and the sensation that he was getting ready to explode any moment built inside his cock, leaving him breathless.

He was pushed over the edge when Stan thrust his tongue inside his mouth and gripped him just a little bit tighter; pumping him like he was born to do this for Kyle and Kyle alone. Kyle couldn't bite back a loud moan as he came in his boxers, feeling the heat of it as it connected with his skin. He felt like his entire body was on fire; like every nerve was being electrified and lights and shooting stars were blazing before his eyes and inside of his brain. When his body finally relaxed and he started coming back down to earth, Stan kissed him more aggressively than before, like they were making an unspoken agreement that Kyle belonged to him and no one else.

He lay there for a moment, dazed and riddled with the aftershocks of an amazing orgasm, while Stan gripped his hip and pulled him closer to him. Nibbling on his earlobe, he whispered in Kyle's ear softly, "I knew you'd like that. Just wait until..."

Kyle looked at him tiredly. "Until what?"

"Until you let me do everything I want to do to you. It's going to be amazing."

"I'm just sorry that I didn't, you know, reciprocate." Kyle said, feeling weirdly bashful all of a sudden.

"Oh, yeah? Well, I can help you take care of that." Stan said, starting to unbutton his jeans.

"No, stop! I can't!" Kyle yelled, grabbing Stan's hand.

"That's what I thought." Stan laughed. He grabbed Kyle's chin and tilted his face towards him. He kissed him lightly on the lips. "You are so fucking cute."

"And you're a pervert." Kyle said, sitting up.

"Guilty as charged. But, hey, one of us has to be. If it were up to you we wouldn't even be holding hands at this point. You're just so...god, what's the word? Chaste, that's it. You are definitely chaste."

"You make me sound like some kind of princess, Stan. Ugh, I seriously need to take a shower. Now I'm sweaty and I, uh, well..." He cringed as he stood up, his sticky boxers clinging to him.

"I mean, you do kind of act like a princess, dude. You're pretty high maintenance, you know." Stan said. He was stretched out on his side, his head propped on his hand and he looked amused.

"Whatever. Can I have a plastic bag? I need something to put my clothes in when I go home because I am not wearing these boxers for another second."

"Sure, yeah. Go take a shower and I'll grab you a bag. Hey, I can even join you if you like." Stan smiled brightly.

"No, thanks. I can handle this alone. I guess my jeans are still okay to wear, and my t-shirt feels a lot dryer so I can put that back on. Besides, I can't just go home wearing your clothes, my mom would never shut up about it. Just let me borrow a pair of your boxers." Kyle started rooting through the top drawer of Stan's dresser and pulled out a pair.

By the time Kyle had finished showering and dressing it was almost 6:30. He groaned when he noticed the time.

"Dude, I have to go. It's getting kind of late."

"What? But my parents won't be home for almost another hour. You don't have to go yet." Stan said, grabbing his hand.

"No, I really should. I have homework and my mom wants me home for dinner by 7. Besides, I need to get a jump on the reading for my classes because they are seriously not playing around this year. I don't want to get behind." Kyle stood up and grabbed his bags.

"Okay, fine. You'll be coming over tomorrow after school though, right?"

Kyle sighed. "I can't. Tutoring starts tomorrow. I'll be at school until 5:30 at least. Oh, and then I'm interning at the doctor's office the day after that. If I play my cards right I'll even get to sit in on a vasectomy reversal." He glanced at Stan, excitedly. He was surprised to see the annoyed look on Stan's face.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"The year has barely started and you're already crazy busy." Stan complained. "We only have like one class together and now I won't even get to see you outside of school."

"That isn't true. I'll be free Friday night and besides, it's not my fault that you didn't want to do AP classes." Kyle replied, frowning.

"I'm just not obsessed with my grades and studying like you are." Stan snapped, crossing his arms.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize giving a shit about my future was a bad thing! Excuse me while I throw everything away so that I can spend every waking moment with you!"

"So spending time with me is the same as 'throwing everything away' as far as you're concerned? Wow, Kyle, go ahead and tell me how you really feel."

"Ugh, that's not what I meant and you know it!" Kyle said, throwing up his hands in annoyance.

"So what did you mean?" Stan asked more softly now. He sounded hurt.

Kyle went and sat next to him, softening at the hurt tone in Stan's voice. "I just meant that I have a lot of goals that are really important to me, and I..." He looked away, trying to formulate his thoughts. "I guess I'm just really bad at balancing my work with a relationship because I've never had to do that before, you know? Like, I have to get used to doing certain things with you, and I also have to figure out a way to have enough time to do everything I want. I'm just trying to figure everything out and it's harder than I thought it would be."

"Well, I guess I could be more understanding about your schedule." Stan said. "It's not like I didn't know about how intense you are about school and volunteering and stuff before we got together. You were pretty clear about it."

"Why don't we go do something this Friday? Like, I don't know, go on an actual date? What do you think?" Kyle suggested.

"I'd like that," Stan said. He stood up and stretched, his long torso taut. For some reason the motion kind of turned Kyle on.

"Walk me to the door before I lose my mind and jump your bones." He gathered up his stuff and started towards the door, avoiding Stan's attempt to grab his ass.


	3. Chapter 3

**"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;**  
 **Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the spider to the fly.**  
 **"There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin,**  
 **And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in."**  
 **"O no, no," said the little fly, "for I've often heard it said,**  
 **They NEVER, NEVER WAKE again, who sleep upon YOUR bed."**

 **-The Spider and the Fly: A Fable by Mary Howitt**

The second day of school passed very much like the first right down to the blistering heat. Kyle was starting to relax about the Mark situation though. So far, he hadn't so much as glanced at him, and other than occasionally answering a question in class, he kept mostly to himself unless he was with his sister. Instead of focusing on that, Kyle tried to make up for the argument he'd had with Stan by being extra affectionate.

During lunch, they opted to sit outside so they could have some privacy. Kyle rested his head on Stan's shoulder as they lounged in the shade of a large tree. In the distance, they could see Mark and Rebecca sitting together at one of the tables, the summer breeze ruffling their hair. Rebecca was laughing and holding his arm again, her long brown curls cascading over her shoulders. She was wearing an off the shoulder white blouse and a long blue skirt. Mark was looking like a prep in a polo shirt and khakis. The only time he seemed even remotely animated was when he was with her.

"I've never seen a brother and sister that close before," Stan remarked idly as he sipped a bottle of coke. "Shelly and I could never be like those two."

"I'm pretty sure they're twins, right? That would explain why they're so weirdly close to each other, I guess." Kyle responded. "Hey, what's Clyde doing?"

They watched as Clyde walked over to Mark and Rebecca's table, a smug look on his face. He tapped Rebecca on the shoulder and she turned around, surprised. He sat down beside her without even acknowledging Mark.

"I can't hear what they're saying but Mark looks pretty pissed, don't you think?" Stan asked.

Kyle nodded. Mark did look pretty irritated at the fact that Clyde had invited himself to their table and was openly flirting with Rebecca right in front of him. He even reached out and brushed a curl off of Rebecca's forehead, that insufferable shit-eating grin never leaving his face. She turned bright red while Mark seethed.

"He's pretty brave considering Mark kicked your ass for way less."

"Yeah, well, Clyde's a cocky moron. He doesn't really think anything through." Kyle rolled his eyes. "He actually deserves to get his ass kicked."

The tension came to a head when Clyde dared to put his hand on Rebecca's leg. Mark stood up and grabbed Clyde by the front of his shirt, dragging him to his feet. Clyde, taken aback, almost stumbled and fell. Mark got really close to Clyde's face and said something that made him go pale, and he tried to back away unsuccessfully. Mark had his fist clenched and pulled back, ready to punch him in the face. Clyde shook his head and said something that seemed to diffuse Mark's anger slightly; he threw him on the ground and just stared at him until he slunk off. Mark turned to Rebecca and grabbed her by the arm and she stood up silently. In fact, she hadn't said a word the whole time, not even to tell Mark to stop. She just looked resigned to his outbursts and allowed herself to be led away, her head down.

"What the hell just happened?" Kyle asked. "See what I mean now? That dude is fucking nuts!"

Stan wiped a trickle of sweat from his forehead and leaned back against the tree. "Well, yeah, clearly. I never said he wasn't crazy. I just don't think you need to worry about him bothering you as long as you leave his sister alone. Or do I need to be concerned about you putting the moves on her again?"

"Don't be stupid, of course not. Do you really need to ask questions like that after, you know, what we did yesterday?" He blushed and looked away.

"Mmm, yeah. That was great," Stan said, looking dreamy. "I actually like how shy you are; it'll be fun corrupting you."

"Corrupting me? You're insane."

"It's your own fault for being so cute and innocent," Stan countered.

"No, it's your fault for always having your mind in the gutter."

"And you love it," Stan said, putting his arm around him and pulling him close. Kyle snuggled up against his side, breathing in the spicy cologne he liked to wear. He suddenly felt so relaxed and at peace, being outside with Stan while lazy clouds drifted across the hard blue sky. Smatterings of sunlight dappled the grasses around them, drifting down through the multitude of tree branches above their heads. Thoughts and worries about the school year and his grades and Mark drifted away on a tide of happiness; as long as he could have moments like this with Stan, somehow everything would be okay.

"Alright everyone, listen up. Before we get started here I just wanted to go over a couple of things..." Mr. Mackey clapped his hands and waited for the room to quiet down. It was after school in the library, and Kyle was sitting next to the freshman he'd be tutoring in Algebra for the rest of the year. The boy appeared nervous, and he kept tapping his pencil on his notebook like he was doing a drum solo. Kyle wasn't really paying attention to Mr. Mackey, pretty certain that he was just going to go through the same opening spiel as he did last year. After he'd transferred over to South Park High a couple of years ago, he'd taken over the tutoring program and didn't seem quite as harried as he did during his tenure at South Park Elementary. Kyle pulled his phone out of his pocket as discreetly as he could, smiling to see a text from Stan:

Wish you were here...and I'm pretty sure you know what "here" I'm talking about.

Kyle flushed slightly, thinking of Stan's bed and how warm his room would be even with the fan going. He could imagine his cool, white sheets and his navy blue comforter; being wrapped up in it...being wrapped up in Stan's arms...

Kyle's thoughts were interrupted by the library door opening and closing. Looking over, he was startled to see Mark standing there, looking as bored as ever. Kyle's heart started drumming painfully. No, it couldn't be...

"Oh, Mr. Cotswald, so nice to have you join us, finally," Mr. Mackey said. "Take a seat by Malcolm over there." He pointed to an empty seat next to a puny ginger kid by the windows. Mark walked over, smooth and unhurried, and sat, placing his bag in front of him. He looked up at Mr. Mackey with only mild interest.

"Anyway, as I was saying -" Mr. Mackey started speaking again but Kyle promptly tuned him out, focusing instead on Mark, who gracefully sat back in his chair and crossed his long legs. Kyle's stomach was churning with worry, and without realizing it he started to tear a piece of notebook paper into little pieces. The student he was tutoring, a chubby kid named Ben, glanced at him curiously, momentarily stopping his assault on his notebook w/ his pencil.

"Well, I guess that's everything," Mr. Mackey was saying, commencing his little speech. "If you have any questions for me, I'll be in my office." He pointed to the door of the library, where his office was situated across the hall. "Let's not have any funny business; I don't want to have to babysit you for the entire year." He gave them all a pointed look and walked out of the room, the door clicking behind him.

Kyle just sat there, staring at the back of Mark's head until Ben tapped him on the shoulder, making him jump slightly.

"Whoa, hey, sorry. You were just kind of spacing out there," he said. "Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Kyle responded with difficulty. His mouth suddenly felt very dry. "So, uh, let's take a look at your notes so I can see where you are." He reached out a hand.

Ben just looked sheepish. "Well, I didn't really take notes. But I do know that we're starting with chapter one!" He said, looking hopeful.

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Okay, dude, if this is going to work I need you to at least take notes. Let me see your book."

Ben handed it over and Kyle flipped it open, Mark momentarily forgotten in his annoyance. No wonder this kid was in the remedial Algebra class. "Okay, here we go. Expressions and variables." He looked at Ben, who was still sitting there blankly. "Are you going to open your notebook and, you know, take notes?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah! Sure!" Ben scrambled to open his notebook and grabbed a pencil. "I'm ready when you are!" He chirped.

"Great..." Kyle sighed.

For the next half an hour things progressed smoothly, with Kyle giving Ben very basic problems to solve and Ben (mostly) catching on. Kyle would glance over at Mark's table every now and again, where he was still sitting with his legs crossed. He had an algebra book open in his lap and it looked like he was also giving Malcolm problems to solve. He looked slightly annoyed but Kyle was beginning to think that that was just his face's natural setting.

"Okay, I think I got it," Ben said triumphantly, breaking into Kyle's scrutiny of Mark's resting bitch face. "Is this right?" He pushed his notebook over to Kyle for him to see. Surprisingly, he had answered the question correctly and Kyle told him so.

"I think we can move onto something a little bit more complicated," He said, smiling.

Ben's face fell and he looked nervous. "Oh, okay. That sounds okay, I guess."

"Relax, we're just building on the stuff you've already done," Kyle said, feeling sorry for him. Math had always come very easily for him and he actually enjoyed it. He liked how cut and dry it was, and while there were numerous ways to arrive at an answer it was always the same answer; there was very little gray area which Kyle appreciated immensely. He liked reading and analyzing books too, but sometimes it annoyed him how everything in literature was open to interpretation which just seemed to create confusion. It was nice to just have that black and white finality at times, especially when life started to get complicated.

He gave Ben another problem to solve and while he labored over his notebook, Kyle went back to studying Mark. Malcolm was handing him his notebook tentatively, Mark taking it while resting his face in his other hand, looking at it with the same amount of interest he had afforded Mr. Mackey. He saw him frown slightly, and then, while giving Malcolm a look of thinly-veiled contempt, he picked up a red pen from the table and started marking up the page; his pupil wilting at his side. Kyle felt bad for him in that moment, knowing that Mark was crucifying his answers and being very insensitive about it, too. Shaking his head with disgust, he turned back to Ben to check his answers.

The next couple of weeks passed in much the same fashion, with Kyle juggling his AP courses, interning, volunteering, and tutoring. He still managed to set aside time for Stan, who seemed to be growing more frustrated as time went by because he couldn't see Kyle as much as he'd like. Kyle managed to keep him placated, but it was difficult. It was also difficult not giving into Stan's physical advances, going farther than he really felt comfortable with, even though everything they did together felt so amazing. The pressure and the tension of Kyle's schedule and responsibilities started to wear on him, and he finally had a mini blowup at tutoring one afternoon.

He had prepared a list of problems for Ben to do while he finished up his own math homework. Actually, he was doing extra credit for his pre-calc class, which was offered almost every week. His teacher offered a "weekend challenge" every Friday with particularly difficult problems to solve, and Kyle enjoyed being one of the few students in the class who consistently did it every week. A feeling of calm had blanketed their table as they silently worked, when Kyle was pulled out of his thoughts by a loud commotion. He heard a loud thud as if a book was being slammed down on a table, and then a harsh voice:

"I can't believe you still can't do this, you moron! How many times can we go over plotting inequalities before you get it? Are you even paying attention to anything I say?!"

Mark was yelling at Malcolm, who was cowering in his chair, flushed bright red with humiliation. He looked down at his paper in shame, and Kyle could see his lip quivering like he was about to cry. Everyone in the room was staring at their table, not moving or speaking from surprise. A surge of anger coursed through Kyle, who stood up and marched over to their table before really thinking about what he was doing. Mark looked up at him in surprise when Kyle slammed his hand on the table.

"Dude, what the fuck is your problem? You've been yelling at this poor kid for weeks and guess what? It isn't helping him learn! You're supposed to be helping him, you dipshit, not fucking putting him down every chance you get! Jesus christ, what is your deal? If you're going to be a prick why are you even tutoring in the first place?!"

Complete silence descended over the library as everyone stared at Kyle in utter shock. Mark just gaped at him, seemingly lost for words, that insufferable bored look finally gone from his face. Ben looked like he wasn't sure if he should start laughing or just keep his mouth shut, and Malcolm just seemed completely lost for words; his eyes wide and mouth hanging open slightly. Wendy, who was off in the corner with a mousy girl named Sophia just folded her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes. Butters and the kid he was helping looked scared and uncomfortable.

The only sound in the room was Kyle's ragged breaths and the hum of the clock on the wall, so when Mr. Mackey came through the library doors it made everyone jump. Thankfully, he was blissfully unaware of what was going on so he just clapped his hands and announced that that week's tutoring session was over, and that everyone was free to go once they'd cleaned up their areas. Feeling uneasy, Kyle wandered back to his table to gather up his stuff, feeling stupid and embarrassed. Ben grinned at him like he wanted to high five him for putting Mark in his place, but Kyle ignored him and crammed his books and papers in his bag. Without a word, he grabbed his bag and rushed out of the room and down the hallway into the bathroom, where he locked himself in the first stall.

Staring at the white tiles on the floor and taking deep, painful lungfuls of cold air into his lungs, Kyle started to freak out. He couldn't believe that he'd made a scene like that, drawing everyone's attention to him and making a fool of himself. What had gotten into him? Sure, he hadn't gotten a whole lot of sleep the last few days and he felt really on edge trying to juggle all of his responsibilities, but still, that was no excuse to blow up and yell at a classmate, no matter how big of a prick he was being. He envisioned everyone's shocked faces in his mind's eye and cringed, feeling so stupid he could barely stomach it. A small part of him relished Mark's shock and surprise, but it was a small comfort.

Kyle leaned against the bathroom stall for what felt like an hour, too embarrassed to come out and risk facing his peers, until he knew he couldn't hide anymore. Pretty soon the janitors would be done cleaning the school and they'd have to lock up for the night, and he didn't want to run the risk of getting trapped in the school overnight. He came out of the stall and looked in the large mirror behind the row of sinks, his pale reflection staring back at him, wide-eyed and tired looking. His red hair was a disheveled mess of curls and his freckles stood out starkly on his skin; faint dark circles under his eyes. He looked like hell and he felt like it too. No wonder he made an ass of himself; he was falling apart. He splashed cold water on his face and it made him feel more grounded, and after drying himself off with some scratchy paper towels, he finally felt brave enough to leave the bathroom.

The hallways were mercifully empty and silent as he walked toward the exit, looking over his shoulder to make sure that nobody was lurking in the shadows. He pushed through the doors, breathing in the cool night air and feeling relieved that it was the weekend finally and he could put school out of his thoughts for a little bit. It was the first week in October so the nights were starting to become more crisp, the last gasps of Indian summer finally relinquishing its grasp on the town so Autumn could truly begin. In the murky twilight haze, faint stars were collecting in the sky, which was clear after a week's worth of rain. Kyle felt some of the tension falling from his shoulders as he began the walk home, and opted not to text Stan; relishing some much-needed alone time.

He felt guilty for a moment, knowing that Stan was probably waiting to hear from him, but he reasoned that he could just text him early the next day; as soon as he woke up. He didn't have any plans that weekend, and he figured that he could spend the whole day w Stan, just relaxing. Kyle was relieved that he'd already finished all of his homework so he could be lazy the whole weekend. He smiled at the thought and closed his eyes, enjoying the faint feeling of fall in the air. He had just decided to stop by the 7-11 on his way home to get a slurpee when he heard someone calling his name. He turned, surprised.

Mark was walking along behind him, his headphones in his ears; he was wearing a fitted black jacket and dark denim jeans. His usual annoyed, bored look had been replaced with a smirk, and he strolled over to Kyle, his hands in his pockets. For a brief, crazy second Kyle was considering running away but he stood his ground, watching Mark suspiciously. His stomach clenched up with anxiety and he knew that he was afraid of what this kid could do to him. He wasn't particularly big or imposing, if anything he was on the slender side like Kyle, but he still made him nervous.

Mark walked up to him, taking his headphones off as he got closer. His smirk smoothed out into a casual smile as he took his phone out of his pocket and swiped his finger across the screen. He put the phone and his headphones in his pocket. He ran a hand through his hair and seemed to have a hard time looking directly at Kyle; was he nervous or something? Kyle didn't think that was possible. Silence settled over them until Kyle became really uneasy.

"Uh, hey," he said. "Did you, uh, need something, or...?"

Mark finally looked at him and Kyle noticed that his eyes were a peculiar color; in a certain light they looked hazel but then he would blink and they would become almost a golden brown. He realized he was staring and looked away.

"So, about what you said back there," Mark finally said, and Kyle started to feel nauseous from anxiety.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I just felt really irritated and I took it out on you." Kyle said, rubbing the back of his neck; realizing just how pathetic he sounded.

To his surprise, Mark started to laugh. He could feel the irritation from before creeping up inside of his stomach. "What the hell are you laughing at?" He snapped.

"I'm just laughing at what a bad liar you are," Mark said, still snickering.

Kyle just stared at him, not sure how to respond. "I'm not really sure what that's supposed to mean," he finally managed to say.

Mark rolled his peculiar eyes and looked at Kyle, this time almost tenderly. Kyle took a step back, ready to start running if he needed to. This kid was seriously weirding him out

"Kyle, it's okay. You meant everything you said in the library so don't try to deny it now. I mean, I don't want to admit it because it's completely humiliating but you were totally right."

"Wait, what? Do you really think that?" Kyle asked, confused. He never could've anticipated Mark saying that, especially after the things he'd said to him and their tumultuous history with one another. He cocked an eyebrow at him, not knowing what to believe.

"Well, yeah. I was being a total prick to that Malcolm kid and you called me on my shit. That's actually pretty admirable." He shrugged his shoulders. "You called a spade a spade; I have to give you props for that."

Now Kyle was really confused, not only because Mark was actually being pretty cool about being yelled at in front of a group of people, but because they were having what could almost be considered a normal conversation after Kyle agonized about him beating the shit out of him for weeks.

"So...you're not going to kick my ass?" Kyle asked, bracing himself for Mark to come to his senses and knock him out.

Mark looked puzzled. "Huh? I'm not following you."

"You can't tell me you don't remember," Kyle said.

Mark just stared at him blankly. Kyle was starting to feel really stupid about how much thought he'd given all of this over the past month. He was about to tell him to forget about it when Mark's eyes lit up with recognition.

"Oh, my god, are you that Kyle? The one that liked my sister and...jesus christ, it is you!"

"Yeah...it's me," Kyle said, weakly. This was really not the response he was expecting.

"I am so sorry about kicking the shit out of you, dude. I totally lost my mind for awhile there," Mark said, sheepishly running his hand through his hair. "I'm just super protective of Rebecca, and...well, that's no excuse. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Uh, sure, yeah. Why not? I mean, if you can forgive me about going off on you today," Kyle grinned, still feeling like he was having an out of body experience.

Mark waved his hand, dismissing Kyle's words. "Like I said, I had that coming, but to be honest, that Malcolm kid drives me crazy. If tutoring didn't look good on college applications there's no way I would do it. I really don't have the patience for it."

Kyle nodded, knowingly. "Tell me about it. The kid I tutor is okay, but if I have to explain polynomials to him one more time I'm going to blow my head off."

Mark laughed and it lit up his eyes. For a moment, Kyle thought he felt a small flutter in his stomach but ignored it. He looked around, noticing for the first time that Rebecca wasn't with Mark, which seemed odd. They were always together.

Mark watched him closely. "What, were you looking for Rebecca? Don't tell me you still like her?"

Kyle's face flushed. "No, I just noticed that you guys are always together..."

"Have you been watching us or something?" Mark asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, no, not exactly," Kyle said, starting to feel uncomfortable. He must seem so fucking weird.

Mark looked at him closely, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. Then he seemed to brighten, his mood shifting quickly and his eyes widened, flashing that weird golden color again. "Were you heading home? I don't want to keep you if you have something to do."

"Oh, no, I didn't have anything planned. I was just going to stop by 7-11 before going home." He thought for a moment and then asked, almost shyly, "did you want to go with me? I mean, I totally understand if you'd rather not but you're welcome if you'd like to come along. I could use the company, and..." He had to force himself to stop rambling and he was scandalized to feel a blush spreading across his cheeks.

"No, yeah, I'd like to go," Mark responded. "I don't really have any plans tonight. Rebecca went to visit our dad and my mom is working late, so I'm kind of on my own."

"Oh?" Kyle said, as they started walking along the sidewalk together, the streetlights flickering to life around them and throwing pools of light on the road. "Where does your dad live?"

"Grand Junction," Mark replied, a tad indifferently.

"Wow, that's kind of far away," Kyle remarked.

"Yeah, but Becky doesn't mind making the drive. I mean, she has to beg our mom and she only gets to go like once a month, but the drive doesn't seem to bother her."

"Wait, she drives herself?" Kyle asked. He was impressed; he only had his learner's permit.

"Yep, we're both 17," Mark responded. He didn't seem to think having his license and being older than most of the people in their grade as a very big deal. They walked in silence for awhile and Kyle wanted to ask why Mark wasn't visiting their father with Rebecca, but he didn't want to pry.

"So, you guys are twins," he said, feeling lame once the statement left his mouth. Of course they were twins; how else would they both be 17?

"Yeah, that's part of the reason why we're so close. We've always had each other, which really helped during our home-school years."

They had made their way to the 7-11 and were walking across the parking lot. Kyle saw Clyde, Tweek, and Craig hanging out by the entrance and he waved, but Mark didn't. He seemed to stiffen up as they got closer and he became quiet. Craig was sitting on the ice machine with Tweek standing between his legs, and they were passing a drink back and forth. Clyde was playing on his phone but he stood up when he saw Kyle and Mark walking over. He had been smoking a cigarette but he dropped it on the pavement and twisted it out with his foot.

"Hey, you guys," Kyle said. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Craig said, passing the drink back to Tweek. Kyle could smell the scent of weed emanating from them. Tweek waved hello but Clyde just stood there, glaring. Kyle suddenly remembered the exchange he saw between them back on the second day of school, and he felt uneasy.

"Well, see you guys around," he said, walking towards the automatic doors that opened noiselessly; cold fluorescent lighting spilled onto the pavement.

"Later," Craig responded. Tweek waved again and Clyde was still staring hatefully at Mark, who was returning the look in spades. Kyle cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Well, that was certainly uncomfortable," he said, once the doors had slid closed behind them. He was beginning to become unnerved by Mark's sullen silence. This was how he'd imagined him being as opposed to the friendly guy he'd appeared to be just five minutes ago.

"So, about that little tiff you had with Clyde a few weeks ago," he said as he filled up a cup with Cherry slurpee, "what was that about anyway?"

"Oh, you saw that?" Mark said, filling up his own cup w/ a mixture of coke & cherry. "That guy kept hitting on Becky and making her uncomfortable so I told him to back off."

"You're really protective of her," Kyle said, snapping a lid on his cup. He was debating whether to get nachos, too.

"Yeah, I have to be. No one else is going to look out for her so it's up to me to make sure she's okay," Mark said matter-of-factly.

"So, I take it she wasn't into Clyde?" Kyle asked as he decided that he would have some nachos after all.

Mark seemed taken aback by the question. "I'm not sure, actually. Not that it matters."

It was Kyle's turn to be taken aback, not really understanding Mark's logic. "I mean, if she liked him you wouldn't have any reason to tell him to leave her alone, right?"

Mark looked at him, still seeming perplexed. In the light of the store his eyes were very green. Kyle was beginning to think he had kaleidoscope eyes and that they would actually be very striking if they weren't so strange.

"Why would she be interested in someone like that, though? He's clearly not good enough for her," Mark said. "I'm pretty sure I did her a favor running that asshole off."

Kyle couldn't argue with him there, knowing Clyde's history as a player. "That's fair. Besides, he has an on again off again girlfriend he's always fighting with and you didn't want any part of that." They paid for their snacks and left the 7-11, Kyle was relieved to see that his friends were no longer hanging around out front. It was getting kind of chilly now and Kyle was glad that he'd decided to wear a hoody that morning. He checked his phone and saw that it was already 7.

"Hey, if you're not doing anything, did you want to come over? My mom has her book club tonight which is basically her drinking wine with her friends, and my dad will probably be working late. He's working on this really important case and he practically sleeps in his office he's working so much." Kyle offered, feeling bad that Mark seemed to be all by himself on a Friday night. He hadn't really seen him with anyone but his sister since school started so he doubted that he'd made any friends.

Mark seemed surprised by the invitation. "Yeah, but are you sure? I really don't want to put you out."

"It's seriously fine. I was just going to play video games and stuff anyway. I'm feeling a little burned out so I don't have the energy for anything else." Kyle finished the last of his slurpee and threw the cup in a trashcan in front of Harbucks. They were passing a row of shops now, about five minutes away from Kyle's house. Couples were strolling around hand in hand, and families were out shopping; their kids running around. Kyle was surprised that they didn't run into anymore of his friends but he was also kind of relieved, too. It was weird, he didn't really want to talk to anyone for the most part but spending time with Mark didn't feel taxing. He was actually enjoying walking along with him, making small talk.

They made it to Kyle's house where all of the windows were dark, giving it a lonely appearance. Walking up the front walkway, Kyle fished his key out of his pocket and Mark offered to hold his half-eaten container of nachos as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. He turned on a light, illuminating the living room. He threw his bag on the floor and slipped out of his shoes, Mark following suit, except he put his bag on a chair.

"Did you want anything to eat? I'm still hungry even after those nachos," Kyle said, walking towards the kitchen. Mark followed, still holding the nachos and his slurpee. He shook his head, placing both on the counter as they entered.

"Nah, I'm okay." He said, looking around. They had remodeled the kitchen a couple of years ago, and had decided on a modern aesthetic; Kyle's mother opting for stainless steel appliances and black cabinets. Kyle wasn't crazy about it but didn't give it much thought, it was just a kitchen, after all. He grabbed a bag of chips out of a cabinet and poured himself a glass of orange juice.

"Come on," he said, leading the way upstairs to his room. Like the kitchen, they had redone his room awhile ago, and now he had a TV and his playstation right there instead of down in the living room. His twin bed had been given to Ike and now he had a full, but he still had the same desk, covered with homework and books and odds and ends. Kyle flipped on his desk light and the standing lamp in the corner; he never used the overhead light because it was too bright.

He set down his drink and the chips and gestured to Mark. "Just sit anywhere," he instructed. He shrugged off his hoody and threw it on his bed. Seemingly encouraged by this action, Mark took off his coat and folded it carefully over Kyle's desk chair. He was wearing a simple maroon t shirt underneath, and Kyle noticed that while he was slim, his arms were actually pretty muscular. He looked away, feeling weird for noticing something like that.

"So, what do you want to play?" He asked, turning on the TV. He settled himself in a dogeared beanbag chair and grabbed the controller, the bag of chips open next to him.

Mark considered the question for a moment, seating himself in another beanbag chair. "I'm not picky, as long as you're not into Call of Duty or crap like that."

"No way. Right now I'm playing Resident Evil 4 for like the millionth time." Kyle flipped through the games he had saved, showing him.

"I love that game!" Mark said.

"Good, now I finally have someone to play with," Kyle said. "Stan hates horror games, so I always end up playing by myself." He started up the game and as he waited for it to load, he took a long drink of orange juice. "Are you sure you don't want anything to drink, at least?"

"No, thanks. I'm okay." Mark said. "Who's Stan again?"

The game finally loaded and Kyle started to play, maneuvering Leon through a forest filled with unseen horrors. "Stan? Oh, he's my...friend," he replied, feeling strange about referring to him as his boyfriend, though he couldn't say why. A pang of guilt struck him but he ignored it.

Mark watched him wander the forest, killing the infected as they popped up. "He's that tall guy, right? With the dark hair?"

"Yeah, that's him," Kyle said, fondly. He could imagine Stan now, hanging out in his room in his little twin bed, his laptop perched on his stomach. He'd probably be scrolling through facebook, waiting for Kyle to text or message him. Another pang of guilt coursed through him. Trying to ignore it, he groped for something to say when a thought occurred to him.

"Your mom is working pretty late, dude. What does she do, anyway?" He asked, shooting a zombie in the face.

"She's a surgeon. She's on call tonight at Hell's Pass," Mark said. Kyle perked up at this information.

"Really? A surgeon? That is so cool!"

Mark seemed rather nonplussed. "I guess," he replied. He leaned back in the beanbag chair. "She's always working, that's part of the reason my folks split up."

"Oh, that sucks," Kyle said, feeling uncomfortable for responding the way he had. He couldn't help being curious though, but he was afraid to ask more questions.

"She's a general surgeon, so she mainly works on hernias and appendixes and stuff like that," Mark said. Kyle hungrily absorbed this information, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, an awkward silence descended on them.

Finally, he couldn't stand the tension. "Why would her working make your parents get a divorce?"

Mark glanced at him, seeming to formulate a response. "Well, she works really long hours and my dad didn't like that, plus she makes way more than him, and that really pissed him off."

Kyle turned his answer over in his mind, considering it. Mark continued to speak. "I mean, my dad is an actuary so he makes decent money, but he doesn't make nearly as much as my mom. Not to mention the fact that when my mom decided to start practicing again, she didn't have time to home school us anymore."

"Wait, I thought you guys started going to real school years ago," Kyle asked, confused.

Mark rolled his eyes. "My dad considered that but he couldn't deal with it. You see, he's all about control, so us being in regular school didn't work for him. After we moved away from South Park, we went back to being home schooled by our mom. My dad never had the patience to actually teach so he left it up to her, and he continued working to support us."

Kyle paused the game, trying to absorb all of this information. "So, what made her decide to go back to medicine? I mean, why would she if your dad was so..." he trailed off, not sure how to word the rest of his question.

"Domineering?" Mark supplied, smirking. "I don't know, honestly. I guess she got tired of living under his thumb and not being able to do what she'd trained so long for. My mom didn't get into medicine just for the money; she really cares about people, and it killed her not being able to work. Honestly, that's the part of her I've never been able to relate to."

"Caring about people?" Kyle asked.

Mark opened his mouth to answer when his phone started to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and stood up. "It's Becky. I told her to call me as soon as she got to dad's. I have to take this." He swiped his finger across the screen and started to walk towards the door. "Becky?" He asked, as he stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Kyle could hear him, his voice muffled as he moved away down the hallway. He pulled out his own phone, and saw that he'd missed 3 calls from Stan and several texts; he opened the most recent:

dude, if you don't answer me, I'm going to come to your house to make sure you're okay. I'm seriously worried

He groaned, and quickly texted Stan back:

i'm fine, stop being so melodramatic. i just got preoccupied on the way home

He thought a moment and then sent an additional text:

i'm sorry for making you worry...I didn't mean to get all quiet.

He waited a few moments; a new text popped up, like he knew it would:

it's okay. what do you mean you got preoccupied? What are you talking about?

Now that was a loaded question, one that Kyle wasn't sure how to answer. He decided to just be as straight forward as possible:

well, I have that Mark kid here with me. He's actually not that bad...you were right, i was just blowing things out of proportion.

Apprehension cropped up as he reread the text after he'd already sent it; it probably created more questions than answers. He waited nervously for Stan's response, which took longer this time.

wait, Mark's there? You mean, at your house? Dude, what the hell is going on?

Kyle sighed, knowing that it would take a lot of energy to explain this current development; energy he didn't necessarily have to offer. Still, he felt the need to offer an explanation to Stan; it's the least he could do after leaving him in the dark for the past several hours.

Look, i'll call you after he leaves, okay? and then i'll explain everything. he's on the phone with his sister right now.

He frowned when he saw what Stan wrote back:

how late is he staying? i don't think i feel really comfortable with all of this, Kyle. are you guys alone over there?

Kyle was starting to get annoyed, offended by the way Stan was reacting. He was particularly irritated that he wrote out his name in his text; he couldn't have articulated why it bothered him, but it did. It was almost like an attack or something.

Yeah, we're alone. You know my parents are usually out on Friday nights, and Ike is at a friend's house. Besides, what does that matter? And why would you be uncomfortable?

Instead of texting him back, Stan called his phone. Kyle debated accepting the call, still feeling agitated, but finally decided to just talk to him. "Hello?" He tried to keep his voice friendly, but it was a challenge.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Stan asked, making no effort to cover up his irritation. Kyle took a deep breath before he answered.

"Well, I had a talk with Mark and he's actually pretty cool. I mean, that was after I told him to go fuck himself during tutoring but that's another story. Anyway, he told me he was all alone tonight and I felt bad so I invited him over to play video games. That's it, so I don't know why you're reacting like this."

"Reacting like what?" Stan snapped.

"I don't know, like you're suspicious or something!"

He heard Stan sigh. "I'm not suspicious, I was just worried, okay? I didn't hear from you for hours and then out of the blue you're hanging out with Mark, who you've been obsessing over for weeks. How else am I supposed to respond to all of this?"

"That's fair," Kyle said, softly. He realized now that it wasn't fair to Stan to just shut him out without talking to him first. If he'd just told him that he needed space tonight he probably would've been fine with that.

"Besides, I miss you. I just wanted to talk to you," Stan was saying now, and Kyle really started to feel guilty. He groaned.

"Ugh, I'm sorry. I miss you, too. But, hey, now you don't have to hear me bitching about Mark for the rest of the year! That's a good thing, right?"

"I guess. This just seems really abrupt, though. I'm surprised that you're being so cool with him so quickly." Stan said.

"Well, honestly, I was really getting tired of focusing on this so I'm just glad that we can be cool, you know? He offered me the olive branch so I took it. Besides, he seems kind of lonely, maybe the rest of you guys can try to include him more?"

"Maybe," Stan said, sounding reluctant. Kyle heard Mark's voice outside of his door, still on the phone with his sister.

"Oh, hey, he's back. I guess he's about to hang up with his sister. I gotta go but I'll text you in the morning. I was hoping we could do something tomorrow."

"Okay, but call me if you need me. And just be careful, alright?" Stan sounded like he really didn't want to hang up. Kyle rolled his eyes; he was always so protective, like Kyle couldn't possibly take care of himself.

"Of course I will, Stan. Good night."

"Night, babe."

Kyle dropped the phone on his bed, feeling frustrated and restless. He wasn't sure why, but it was almost like he couldn't sit still with his thoughts after that conversation. He plopped down on the beanbag chair and waited for Mark. He could hear what he was saying more clearly now, and it sounded like Mark was angry.

"No, Becky, this is stupid! Why don't you just come home if he's going to treat you that way? This is ridiculous!"

Silence fell as Mark listened. Kyle listened too, feeling bad for eavesdropping but not being able to help himself.

"I'm like two seconds away from just driving over there and bringing you home." He said, but he didn't sound as angry as before; now he just seemed kind of tired.

It got quiet again, and Kyle realized he was holding his breath.

"Fine, fine. Have it your way. Just lock all the doors and be careful, okay? I swear to god, if I were there..." he trailed off, listening again. "Okay, get some sleep. Call me in the morning as soon as you wake up. I love you. Okay, okay. Bye."

Hurriedly, Kyle restarted the game and acted like he'd been playing the whole time instead of hearing every word. Mark stepped into the room, his face a little red and his eyes very dark. He glanced at Kyle, embarrassed.

"I'm guessing you heard all of that."

"Er, well, bits and pieces," Kyle said.

Mark sat down on Kyle's bed and buried his face in his hands. When he looked up, he just sighed. "I seriously need to get high right now," he said, abruptly.

"Wait, what?" Kyle said, startled. That was the last thing he expected to hear from him. He just stared at him.

"Yep, I'm talking seriously high. Like, I don't even want to be able to think straight. What do you think?"

"I, uh, well. No, seriously, what?"

Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of joints. Kyle's eyes widened in shock. "What, you don't smoke?"

"Do I look like I smoke?" Kyle asked.

Mark shrugged. "I mean, if you don't know how, that's cool. I can show you." He stood up and grabbed his coat. Sliding it on he checked in the pocket and pulled out a lighter. "Awesome, I was afraid I forgot to bring this. Hey, do you have anything to drink?"

"Well, sure. We have orange juice, water, soda-"

Mark waved his answers away impatiently. "No, no. Do you have any liquor? Hell, I'll even take a beer."

"Uh, I think my mom has some wine." Kyle said, starting to feel uneasy. This Mark guy was seriously not what he seemed.

"I guess that'll have to do. Pour yourself a glass too." He stepped over to the door and opened it, waiting for Kyle to leave first. Kyle stood up slowly and grabbed his hoody, not really sure how the evening had come to this point.

Down in the kitchen he grabbed a bottle of wine from his mom's stash in the cabinet, being careful to grab one in the back. He still wasn't entirely comfortable with what Mark wanted to do so he tried to find an excuse.

"My parents are going to be home before too long, man. They'd kill me if they caught me, you know," he gestured to the joints Mark had while holding up the wine bottle.

"That's cool, you can just come over to my place. It's totally empty." Mark replied smoothly. "Come on, it's a decent night. It'll be nice to go for a walk anyway."

Kyle didn't move, and Mark finally noticed his hesitation. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just not sure if this is a good idea," Kyle said, feeling stupid and childish.

For a moment, a look of irritation seemed to flit across Mark's face but it was gone as quickly as it came. He smiled. "Has anyone ever told you that you really need to relax?"

Kyle flushed. He'd been told dozens of times that he was too uptight and needed to loosen up. In fact, Stan had told him just the other day that he needed to relax about the Mark situation. "Well, yeah, but still -"

"So, come on. Let's go. You'll like it, I promise." Mark said, herding him towards the door. Feeling overwhelmed, he allowed himself to be kind of pushed along.

Maybe I do need to relax, he thought. I mean, it's just weed...what's the big deal? It's even legal these days. The phone conversation he'd had with Stan passed through his mind and the feeling of restlessness returned. Suddenly getting high with Mark seemed like an okay idea after all. Stepping outside, the night air was clear and chilly, its scent resplendent with the pine trees in the distance.

"Where do you live?" Kyle asked, as they turned onto the sidewalk.

"My mom moved us into her childhood home, that's why we moved back here when she dropped my dad," Mark replied. "It's just beyond Starks Pond."

"Whoa, where those giant houses are?" Kyle asked, impressed.

"Yeah, my grandfather was a doctor too, so they had a lot of money. He left the house to mom in his will, but my dad would never agree to live there. He didn't really get along with my mom's family."

"It doesn't sound like he gets along with anyone," Kyle said.

"Tell me about it. I really can't understand why Becky insists on going to visit him. She should've just told that cocksucker to fuck off the way I did," Mark said, sounding bitter.

Well, that explains why he didn't go with her, Kyle thought. Now he was really interested to know what that phone call was about. He still wasn't sure how to broach the subject though. They left Kyle's neighborhood and made their way towards, Starks Pond, passing through the downtown area and some of the businesses there. There was still a crowd of people around the movie theater even though it was getting pretty late at this point. At least it was late as far as Kyle was concerned. He checked his phone and saw that it was almost 9. They were smart to leave when they did, his mom would've been home by 10 at the latest, stumbling through the door tipsy and ready to go to bed. Kyle tucked the wine bottle inside of his hoody as an afterthought; weed may be legal but the drinking age hadn't changed.

Mark noticed the gesture and elbowed Kyle lightly. "You're pretty uptight, aren't you?"

"No, I just don't want to get busted for underage drinking. Do you?" Kyle replied, annoyed.

"I'm pretty sure nobody cares what we're doing. Everyone's too focused on themselves."

"You know, everybody says that but I call bullshit. It seems like everyone is always sticking their nose where it doesn't belong. I mean, just look at tabloids. There's literally an entire industry designed to pry into other people's lives."

Mark laughed. "Like I said, you're way too uptight. But, you do have a point. I just don't think anyone really cares about what we're doing right now."

Stan probably would, Kyle thought, feeling a little guilty.

They were passing through the woods surrounding the pond now, and Kyle could see the water in the distance; the moon reflecting off its surface. Night winds rustled the long grasses on the shore and created tiny ripples in the water. They broke from the trees and headed along the path circling the water, and Kyle could see large houses in the distance. There weren't very many, as they each seemed to sit on huge plots of land; they were really more like manors. It made him think of Token's house, but it seemed like Mark's home was going to be even larger. He was beginning to feel a little intimidated.

They left the pond and Mark turned onto a long, curving drive; a mailbox enclosed in bricks at its entrance. A tall gate centered in a brick wall stood before them, comprised of black metal swirls and curlicues. Golden lights on either side of the gate glowed warmly, cutting through the darkness. Mark punched a code into a keypad situated in the wall, and the gate slowly started opening. They passed through it and started making their way up the driveway, with large, dark trees flanking the path on either side. They walked for what felt like miles before finally coming up a circular drive, and there, resting like a sleeping dragon in the darkness was Mark's home. Even though Kyle knew it was going to be large he was still amazed at its size; his house could've fit inside of it 3 or 4 times, with room to spare.

"Well, there it is," Mark said. He waved a hand indifferently. "It's pretty standard, all things considered. There's a pool and tennis courts in the back. We also have stables but we don't have any horses right now." He unlocked the front door, which was painted a deep forest green, with ornate door handles and knockers; the latter shaped like lion's heads. The door opened into a massive foyer, with an impressive staircase leading to the second floor, where it split into two, leading off in opposite directions. On the cold marble floor a plush oriental rug in bold jewel tones lay. Kyle took off his shoes, not wanting to track mud across it.

"Come on, let's grab some glasses from the kitchen. You can take that wine out of your hoody now," Mark said, smirking. Kyle just shot him a dirty look but pulled the wine out anyway.

Dim lighting illuminated the house as they passed through it, so Mark didn't bother to turn on any lights. He explained that the lights were activated by movement and would shut off by themselves. In the kitchen, which Kyle could only describe as cavernous, Mark grabbed some wine glasses and a bottle opener. He gestured to the fridge, which had a screen on the front like a smart phone, and raised his eyebrows at Kyle. "You want anything?"

Kyle just shook his head, trying to take in the opulence surrounding him. Now he felt kind of dumb having Mark over at his house; it paled in every conceivable way when compared to this place. He glanced at the wine bottle and noticed a '2 for $7.00' sticker on the label; he discreetly tried to peel it off.

"Let's go sit by the pool," Mark said. He led the way out of the house onto a giant porch with steps leading down to the pool, a hot tub nestled away on a raised platform nearby. The steps cut through a layered garden, each level surrounded by rocks and filled with flowers and spiky bushes; trailing ivy dripping over the side. The rocks extended down to the edge of the pool, where a waterfall cascaded into the water, making the water ripple and froth. Tables and chairs made of blonde wood sat along the pool's perimeter. As they descended the steps, Kyle could see acres of green lawn stretching away towards the horizon.

Mark sat in a chair heavily and put the bottle opener on the table. "You do the honors," he said, setting down the wine glasses as well. "What kind of wine did you get anyway?"

Kyle sat down and glanced at the bottle. "Uh, it's a merlot," he said. He hadn't really done very much drinking at all; the night he got plastered with Stan at Stark's Pond on cheap beer notwithstanding. The memory brought a feeling of longing with it but he tried to ignore it. "I haven't really had a lot of wine," he continued, deciding that honesty was the best policy in this situation. "Is it good?"

"It's pretty sweet and kind of fruity, depending on the kind," Mark said. "I don't know if I would describe it as good only because I'm really not much of a wine drinker. People get pretty intense about that stuff but I'm not drinking it for the taste, honestly." He shrugged and pulled the joints out of his pocket, along with the lighter. Kyle was about to use the corkscrew when he noticed the wine didn't have a cork; it was just a twist off bottle. Mark snickered.

"I can tell this is going to be one high class glass of wine." He lit the joint, its tip glowing orange. Taking a deep drag, he leaned back and held his breath for a moment; after a few seconds he exhaled slowly, a cloud of smoke drifting into the sky. He coughed a little, covering his mouth with his hand. Meanwhile, Kyle had opened the wine and poured two glasses, taking care to put a little bit less in his own. He pushed a glass towards Mark who took it and drained half of it in one gulp. Kyle could only watch in amazement.

"It's not bad," he remarked, offering the joint to Kyle. "The weed and the wine respectively," he added, smiling. "Your turn, man."

"Well, okay, I guess I can give it a try," Kyle said, taking it with a shaky hand.

"It's really easy," Mark said, soothingly. "Just take a drag and hold it in your lungs for a little bit, and then slowly let it out. I don't recommend taking a super long hit the first time you do it, though."

Kyle hesitantly brought the joint to his lips, the smell of it filling his nostrils. His lips closed on the tip of it and he inhaled, feeling the acrid smoke filling his mouth. Against his will, he started coughing like crazy. Hazily, he could hear Mark laughing.

"Oh, my god, dude, I told you not to inhale that much!" He was laughing so hard he was doubled over. "Take a drink of your wine, that'll help!"

Kyle couldn't stop coughing and his throat felt like it was on fire; his eyes were watering so much it was hard to see. He groped for his wine glass and took a drink, the flavor of the wine almost making him gag. That made Mark crack up too. He got up and sat in the chair next to Kyle, rubbing his back gently. He had already finished his wine and was taking another long drag. Like an expert, he exhaled the smoke while Kyle continued to cough. Pouring himself another glass of wine, he continued to rub Kyle's back.

Finally, his coughing fit subsided, and Kyle leaned back in his chair, his throat aching and his eyes stinging. Mark was watching him closely, his face a mixture of amused concern. "Do you want to try again?" He asked, innocently.

Kyle wanted to say no but he didn't, not wanting to look like a complete loser. He tentatively took the joint from Mark and brought it to his lips again, feeling apprehensive. This time he made sure to take a very small drag, but he was only able to hold the smoke in his lungs for a split second. He exhaled much more quickly than Mark but was relieved that he only needed to cough a little this time. His throat was still burning pretty badly, though. To sooth it, he took a small sip of the wine, trying to get used to its flavor. It seemed kind of sweet, but it was coupled with a bitterness that Kyle had a hard time wading through. He managed to finish the glass, but not without difficulty.

"See? You're already getting better. Good job," Mark said. He finished off his second glass of wine and poured himself a little more, making sure to refill Kyle's glass too even though he hadn't indicated that he wanted more. In fact, Kyle's head was already starting to spin but he wasn't sure if it was from the wine or the weed. Mark didn't seem like he felt any differently but Kyle couldn't be sure. He looked up into the night sky where the stars seemed to be swimming in tides of black and blue, but he couldn't keep them from skipping around. Rubbing his eyes, he looked again, but the stars were white marbles skittering around, jumping in and out of formation; constellations collapsing. The moon stayed where it was supposed to but its color seemed to shift from a soft pearly color to a blinding white that hurt his eyes. He looked away and saw that Mark was watching him closely.

"Here," he said, putting the joint in Kyle's hand. All he could do was stare at it stupidly. "This is the part where you smoke it," he instructed. Mark guided Kyle's hand towards his mouth, his lips parting to accept the cigarette. Dimly, he took a slightly bigger inhale than the last time and was surprised that he was able to hold it in for a little bit longer this time. Exhaling, he watched the smoke drift up towards the stars, who were still misbehaving and refusing to stay put. He took another drink of wine, still not enjoying its taste but at least getting used to it.

"I feel kind of hot," he said, his voice sounding far away to him and a little muffled.

"Well, take off your hoody then," Mark replied. His voice sounded really far away too, and super deep. "I mean, we're all friends here, right?" He started to giggle which suddenly struck Kyle as being the funniest sound he'd ever heard. He started laughing too as he went to stand up, fumbling with the zipper of his hoody clumsily. He almost stumbled when he stood up but managed to catch himself, which just made him laugh more. Sliding his hoody off, he threw it on a chair, enjoying the feeling of the chilly air sliding across his skin, which suddenly felt so warm. His face was starting to feel warm too, the heat settling in his cheeks. He sat back down and pressed his hands against his face, hoping that his hands were cool enough to provide some relief. They weren't.

Mark was finishing off the weed in one long drag as Kyle drained the last of the wine in his glass. His face was starting to become unbearably hot so he decided to take off his hat, hoping that the wind blowing through his hair would help to cool him off.

"I didn't know you had red hair," Mark commented.

"How is that possible? I haven't worn my hat at school for weeks." Kyle said, fighting back laughter.

Mark shrugged. "I guess I just don't pay very much attention to most people," he replied nonchalantly. He looked at Kyle almost like he was appraising him. "It's actually really pretty."

Normally, Kyle would feel really weird having someone other than Stan commenting on his hair but at the moment it just seemed hilarious. He busted out laughing, almost feeling like he couldn't control himself. With the alcohol coursing through his blood and the weed making him dizzy and loose, everything just felt funny and not to be taken seriously. It was actually incredibly liberating. He reached out and grabbed Mark's arm, surprising him.

"Dude, why did I wait so long to do this?" He asked.

"Do what? Take your hat off?" Mark asked, drinking more wine.

"No, dude, smoke weed?"

"I have no idea but it sure seemed to help you loosen up," Mark replied. He picked up the wine bottle and frowned when he saw that it was empty. "We need more wine," he said, sounding very serious like this was a huge problem.

"I want pancakes," Kyle said, suddenly feeling ravenous. The 7-11 nachos and slurpee seemed like a lifetime ago.

Mark considered this for a moment then nodded. "Yes, pancakes actually sound perfect. Let's go."

They managed to make their way back up the stairs and up to the porch, stumbling and grabbing onto each other to steady themselves, laughing hysterically the whole way. In the kitchen, Mark found the ingredients for pancakes and put a frying pan on the stove, turning it on to begin heating up. He also pulled another bottle of wine out of a fridge underneath the counter. Having forgotten the corkscrew and glasses by the pool, he just produced more, commenting that they had multiple corkscrews and about a million wine glasses at their disposal. Kyle just sat on a stool and watched, everything feeling too bright and moving too fast.

Mark peered at the label on the bottle. "Looks like we're going to have chardonnay this time. How does that grab you?"

Kyle shrugged. "I'm fine with it. Just hurry with those pancakes, I'm starving."

"Just be patient and I will make the finest pancakes Aunt Jemima has to offer," Mark responded. "Wait, where did I put the spatula?" He looked around.

"Uh, I think it's under that towel," Kyle said, pointing at the counter. It was weird seeing Mark being forgetful; he was usually so poised and sure of everything. He drank some of the chardonnay and watched Mark move around the kitchen, his eyes trailing over his back. He'd taken off his coat so he was in his t shirt and jeans. Kyle noticed that he had a long torso like Stan's, but he was a little bit thinner. He found himself staring at his arms and spacing out, enjoying the way the muscles flexed under his skin as he started cooking.

Time seemed to jump forward and suddenly Mark was putting a plate in front of him, piled high with pancakes. He plunked a bottle of maple syrup down too. He poured more wine in both of their glasses and sat down next to Kyle. He poured copious amounts of syrup over his own plate of pancakes and handed the bottle to Kyle. "Here you go, dig in," he said, and Kyle noticed that his eyes were green again, but the whites of his eyes were red.

Kyle tore his eyes away from Mark's face and squirted syrup on his pancakes, which was quickly absorbed. He took a big bite and groaned.

"These are seriously the best pancakes, no the best thing, I've ever tasted in my whole entire life," he said, taking another bite. Pretty soon, his plate was clean and he was dipping a finger in the leftover syrup, bringing it to his lips and almost dissolving because of how sweet and perfect it tasted.

"You want more?" Mark asked, looking over. His plate was empty too.

"God, yes. Please." Kyle said, handing him his plate. Mark filled both plates again and set them on the table.

"Hey, let's put chocolate chips and whipped cream on them this time. What do you think?" Mark asked, excitedly.

Kyle nodded enthusiastically. Mark grabbed a bag from a cabinet and a can of whipped cream from the fridge and handed them to Kyle. Kyle tore into the bag of chocolate chips, making them spray out all over the counter. They both started giggling while picking up the strays and popping them into their mouths. He poured chocolate chips on top of his pancakes and then offered the bag to Mark who did the same. Shaking up the can of whipped cream, he squirted a huge mound on top of his pancakes and then squirted a little into his mouth. He offered to do the same for Mark, who opened his mouth widely. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste while Kyle put some on his pancakes too.

They both destroyed their food in a matter of minutes, washing down the residual sweetness with drinks of chardonnay. Kyle pushed himself away from the table feeling immensely satisfied. A thought occurred to him.

"Are you sure your mom won't be coming home soon?" He asked.

Mark snorted. "She won't be back until tomorrow morning at the earliest. I wasn't kidding when I said she works a lot."

"Well, okay." Another thought suddenly struck Kyle and he sat straight up. "Shit, my parents don't know I'm over here! They're going to kill me!"

Mark put his hand on Kyle's shoulder to steady him. "Relax, dude. Just text them and tell them you're spending the night at my house. It's not a big deal."

"That's a good idea," Kyle agreed, slurring his words. He got off the stool clumsily and headed for the door. "I left my phone in my hoody, I have to go get it."

Leaving the kitchen in disarray, they headed back down the stairs where Kyle grabbed his phone. It felt like it took him a million years to formulate a simple text to his mom and he sighed with relief when he finally sent it. Mark had lit up the other joint while waiting for him to finish and he handed it to him after he set his phone down.

"I don't know if I should," Kyle said, his voice sounding thick. "I already feel really dizzy." It was true; his head continued to spin even when he closed his eyes.

"Oh, come on," Mark slurred, "just one more time. Live a little."

"Well, okay," Kyle said, his head swimming with the booze and the weed. Not only that, he felt like he was high on the chilled night air and glimpses of Mark's sinewy arms and the stars hopscotching their way across the sky. He shook his head a little to clear it but that just made him feel more disoriented. He took a drag on the joint, closing his eyes as he inhaled more deeply than before, the smoke burning through him, and slowly he exhaled. Opening his eyes, he watched the smoke curl away like icy breath and scatter on the breeze. He leaned back in his chair as far as he could go and for a moment he was afraid that he was going to fall, but not on the ground; rather, he was afraid that if he let go of the chair he would float away and become lost among the shimmering, playful stars, so far away.

He blinked and when he opened his eyes again, Mark had stood up and walked to the edge of the pool. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off over his head, revealing a lean, pale torso. He wasn't as defined as Stan but Kyle still admired how lithe he was. His breath caught in his throat and he willed himself to look away, feeling guilty.

"Are you coming in?" Mark called, pulling Kyle's focus away from his shameful thoughts. He was unzipping his jeans and sliding them off, revealing dark blue boxers.

"Won't it be cold?" Kyle asked, stalling for time.

"It's heated," Mark replied. He threw his clothes over on the grass and looked at Kyle expectantly.

Kyle stood wordlessly and walked slowly to the pool, Mark watching him advance. He saw him smirk and then he jumped in, his body breaking the surface of the water like a knife being thrown; creating a very small splash. When he surfaced, he shook his dark hair out of his face and looked up at Kyle, who was still standing at the edge, fully clothed.

"I'm waiting," he laughed.

Kyle could feel him watching as he peeled his shirt off and pulled his jeans down, stepping out of them carefully. He kicked them away and walked towards the stairs leading into the pool. He didn't feel brave enough to just jump in, he didn't care if it was heated or not. Mark swam over to the stairs, waiting. Kyle put one foot in the water, surprised at how warm it was, and then put the other foot in. Gingerly, he walked down the stairs until the water came up to his waist, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. A slight shiver ran through him.

"I didn't realize you were so thin," Mark said, startling him. He looked down at himself and dropped down into the water all the way, feeling self conscious.

"I'm not that thin," he said, defensively. Stan was always telling him how scrawny he was but he said it affectionately so it didn't really bother him. With Mark it was hard to tell whether he meant it as a compliment or an insult. It also made him uneasy how Mark could comment on his body so casually.

"No, I think it's cute," Mark said, paddling towards him. Kyle backed away, still feeling weird, not to mention stoned and disoriented.

"Where are you going? It was a compliment." Mark continued to follow him towards the deep end. Pretty soon it got too deep for Kyle to walk so he started awkwardly doing the backstroke. He made it to the end of the pool and gripped the edge, trying to orient himself. He glanced over his shoulder and Mark was very close, still drifting towards him. For some reason, his heart started thudding in his chest. He wasn't sure why but he felt like he needed to say something, and quickly.

"So, uh, what was that phone call with your sister about, anyway?" He asked.

Mark stopped and began to tread water, the mirth evaporating from his face. It was amazing how quickly his face could become cold and hard after being in such a good mood. Kyle immediately regretted asking the question.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. Just forget that I asked, okay?"

Mark ignored him, opting instead to swim over next to Kyle where he pulled himself out of the pool. He sat on the edge with his legs dangling in the water, leaning back on his hands. Kyle peered up at him, not sure what to do.

"If you really want to know, my sister is spending the night by herself instead of with my dad because that son of a bitch had a date," he said, his voice quiet but filled with anger. "She drove over four hours to see that pile of shit but he couldn't cancel a date to actually be there."

"Dude, that's terrible," Kyle said. Now he really regretted asking about the phone call; Mark sounded livid.

"And instead of coming home to at least be here with me she decided to stay there and wait for him, like an idiot," he continued to seethe. "Like a dog waits for their master to come home. The whole thing makes me sick."

"I don't blame you," Kyle murmured. He wasn't sure what else he could say.

Mark stood up and went over to the table to grab the joint. He sat back down with his legs in the water and took a drag. He coughed a little and tried to hand it to Kyle who shook his head. He frowned and then shrugged, finishing it off instead.

He sighed. "You want to head upstairs? I'm getting kind of tired, we could watch a movie or something."

"Sure," Kyle said, hoping that his bad mood would shift as quickly as his good one had. He swam to the ladder and climbed out of the pool, the cold air hitting his skin and making him cringe. He went to grab his clothes, very aware that Mark was watching every move he made.

They gathered up their stuff and headed to the house. When they walked into the kitchen Kyle saw the mess they left behind and he glanced at Mark. "We should clean this up before we go to bed, don't you think?"

Mark looked around the room, his face impassive. "Leave it. The housekeeper can get it in the morning. It's her job." His expression softened when he saw the way Kyle was looking at him. "Besides, I'm an early riser. I can take care of most of it before she even gets here."

Upstairs, in Mark's room, Kyle marveled at the size of it, and of his massive bed taking up almost an entire wall. There were bookshelves covered in books and a giant aquarium bubbling quietly in the corner, colorful fish flitting through the lit-up water. French doors covered in gauzy curtains led out onto a balcony, and another set of doors led to a private bath. Kyle suddenly became acutely aware that he was still in his wet boxers and nothing else, and he shivered in the chill of the room.

"Did you want to take a shower?" Mark asked. He had a towel and was drying his hair. He was also just in his boxers but he made no attempt to cover up; he seemed completely comfortable standing there half naked with Kyle in his room.

"Yeah, that sounds nice," He said, feeling shy all of a sudden.

"It's right through there," Mark said, pointing. His dark hair fell into his eyes and he brushed it away. "I'll probably take one too so don't take too long, okay?" He smiled, and Kyle noticed one of his canines was unusually sharp. It made him look kind of feral.

"Sure, right. Um, is there anyway I can borrow something to wear?"

Mark looked at him, considering his request. A blush spread across Kyle's cheeks and he couldn't have said why. "Yeah, I'll grab you something. Just head in there and I'll leave it on the counter, okay?"

"Oh, okay. Thanks." He headed towards the bathroom, which was decorated in shades of gold and brown. A claw foot tub sat in repose next to a glassed-in shower with multiple faucets jutting from the walls. A double vanity ran the length of a long mirror, where Kyle could see himself standing there, still shivering in his boxers. Under the subdued lighting he looked pale, and he could see why Mark called him thin; he almost looked frail, his clavicle standing out plainly. A memory stirred from earlier in the day, how he looked at himself in much the same way in the bathroom at school; and now here he was, standing in Mark's bathroom of all places. It was amazing how quickly the tides could shift. He turned away when he took off his boxers, having seen enough of his reflection. He turned on the water in the shower and when he saw that it was warm enough to create steam, he stepped into it.

Kyle tried to keep it short even though the water felt amazing, chasing away the cold and a slight ache in his muscles. This day felt like it was going on for decades, and he was completely ready to drop into bed and just pass out. He thought back to what Mark had told him about his father, and how angry he'd become. He seemed to be in a better mood now, and he hoped it stayed that way so they could just go to sleep. It was rather disconcerting how quickly Mark could flit from mood to mood, but Kyle attributed that to his selfish father and having to deal with the fallout. Anyone in his position would be moody, right? He sighed and turned off the water, wrapping himself in a towel and going to find the clothes that Mark promised him.

A pair of boxers and a t shirt were on the counter, just as Mark said they would be, and he put them on. The boxers were a little loose but comfortable, and he was swimming in the shirt, but glad to have it. He dried his hair a little more and as it dried it became wavy, tiny water droplets falling onto his shoulders. Mark was reading, stretched out on his bed when he came into the room. He looked up, smiling.

"Those clothes okay? They seem a little big."

He looked down. "Just a bit, but thanks."

Mark gestured to the TV. "Watch whatever you want, I'll just be a minute." He headed into the bathroom, not bothering to shut the door. Kyle heard the water start up a moment later. He flipped on the TV, but couldn't really find anything he wanted to watch. Instead, he walked out onto the balcony, through the filmy curtains that blew back when he opened the door. A telescope sat there, as if waiting for him. He looked through it, but cloud cover had rolled in so it was hard to make out anything. The view from the balcony was amazing on its own without aid of a telescope; it looked out upon the pool and the lawns, with Starks Pond and the town of South Park beyond. It was almost like Mark lived in a castle that overlooked its kingdom.

He wandered back into the room where he found Mark waiting, holding a bottle of water. "Hey, did you want a Xanax? I usually take one before bed; it helps me drop off."

"No, I'm okay. I still feel really loopy from the wine and stuff," Kyle declined.

"Gotcha, that makes sense." He shook the bottle of water. "I got you something to drink at any rate. I don't know about you but wine always dries my mouth out."

"Oh, thanks," Kyle said, thankfully. He took the water and drank deeply.

"Let's watch something and go to sleep," Mark said, climbing onto the bed. Kyle climbed in after him, sinking into the softest mattress he'd ever felt. He almost sighed it felt so comfortable. He could sleep for a year.

During the night, Kyle had strange and disjointed dreams; dreams that appeared in flashes of color like a series of blurry photographs. One moment, it felt like he was being weighed down by something and the next he thought he felt wind on his face. Every now and then he seemed to open his eyes in the dream and he could see Mark, his dark hair falling over his forehead and his weird color-changing eyes; one second they were green, the next they were a dark brown, almost black. Then they would turn colors that human eyes could never be: magenta, bright orange, cerulean; he could see the night sky in them with stars pulsing, and then they would shift and become what he could only presume was a reflection of hell, with fires blazing and a deep blackness that went on forever.

Kyle would try to move his body but it felt like he had sleep paralysis, so all he could do was watch the photographs flash by; a TV playing a movie, and then a bedside lamp, lit and casting shadows on the walls. He felt pain in his body vaguely, a slight ache behind his temples and a throb in his neck. He felt himself turning onto his side, the paralysis temporarily lifted but it still didn't feel like he had control of his body. He had experienced this before, but never for this long. At one point he was floating near the ceiling and looking down at himself, lost among mountains of blankets and a shadowy form blocking his view.

He tried to open his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He was sinking into the mattress now, and he saw bright lights flashing. Kyle pleaded with himself to wake up, just wake up, and stop these vivid dreams but they wore on, and he could do nothing but surrender. The only screams he could produce were inside of his head.


	4. Chapter 4

**I wanna just dance but he took me home instead**  
 **Uh oh! There was a monster in my bed**  
 **We french kissed on a subway train**  
 **He tore my clothes right off**  
 **He ate my heart and then he ate my brain**

 **-Lady Gaga - "Monster"**

Kyle woke in the morning with a vicious headache and a horrible case of dry mouth, with heavy limbs and a cloudy mind. The room was gray and murky from storms that had moved in overnight, and rain pelted against the windows. He looked over and saw that Mark was gone, evidently being truthful about being an early riser. Checking the clock, Kyle saw that it was a little after 9 am. He tried to sit up but his body felt so heavy, like every limb was weighted down with rocks. Whimpering, he managed to shift into a sitting position, his legs hanging over the side of the bed, but he didn't have the strength to stand up.

He rubbed his temples, trying to ease the ache pulsing there, and recalled the dreams; the strange, vivid dreams. They receded as his mind reached for them, trying to recall them in detail, but they started to fade leaving him frustrated. There were pains in his arms and legs that he could only attribute to sleeping in the wrong position and in a strange place.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Mark said, coming into the room. He looked bright and cheerful, not pensive and stormy like he had last night while talking about his father. He was carrying a tumbler of orange juice that he handed to Kyle. "I've been down to clean up the kitchen so the housekeeper doesn't walk into chaos. How are you feeling? You look pretty rough, man."

Kyle gratefully sipped the juice and nodded. "Yeah, I feel really weird, actually. I had these really bizarre dreams last night; the weed and alcohol really messed with my head, I guess."

"Well, we did polish off like two bottles of wine between us and you're definitely an amateur when it comes to weed so that makes sense," Mark replied.

"Are you even hung over? You seem perfectly fine," Kyle asked, feeling a little jealous.

"Nah, not really. I mean, I have a slight headache but it wasn't anything Excedrin couldn't handle. Would you like some?"

"Sure, that'd be great. Where are they?"

"In the bathroom but don't worry about that, I'll go grab them for you. You just stay put." Mark said, starting to turn away.

"No, I can get them myself," Kyle protested, not liking the feeling of being so weak or making Mark go to extra trouble for him. He went to stand up and managed to make it to his feet, but then his knees seemed to crumple beneath him and he was falling forward; luckily, Mark was there to catch him and hold him up, his strong hands gripping him under his arms. Feeling woozy and humiliated, Kyle looked up into Mark's face, and for a moment he was taken aback by how handsome he looked, his strange eyes narrowed with concern and his full lips looking so soft...

Blushing, Kyle tried to push away from him but Mark held him tightly, almost hugging him now. "Hey, hold on and let me help you back into bed, Kyle. I don't want you to fall again."

"No, I can, uh, I can manage. Please, let me go," Kyle said, feeling ashamed and embarrassed. He felt so stupid and like he was making a complete fool of himself. He was pretty sure Mark would never want to hang out with him again and the idea really bothered him, though he wouldn't have been able to articulate why. He gripped handfuls of Mark's t shirt in his hands, clinging to him but wanting him to let go, even if he fell flat on his face.

"You're being ridiculous, now just relax, okay? Come on," Mark spoke like he was trying to calm down a startled animal, his voice soft and placating. He eased Kyle back into the bed, where he collapsed, his energy spent. Faint stirrings of nausea were coursing through him now, and he looked at Mark almost desperately.

"I don't feel right," he said. "Is this what a hangover feels like? I thought I had one before, when I drank a bunch of beer with Stan, but this feels different."

Mark studied him, his eyes filled with compassion, or pity? Kyle couldn't be certain. "I just think the combination of booze and weed hit you pretty hard. It also doesn't sound like you slept very well so that isn't helping your situation." He thought a moment. "You seemed really restless last night, now that I think of it."

"It was those dreams," Kyle said. "They were awful." He blushed, remembering something suddenly. "I think you were in them, too."

"Oh, was I?" Mark asked, smirking. "Well, I'm pretty sure you're gonna have to tell me all about that but first, you need to take some Excedrin and eat something, too. What do you think you can stomach?"

The very thought of food made Kyle's stomach lurch, and he reached out a hand to steady himself on the bed. "I don't think I can," he said. "Not yet."

"Okay, but I want you to finish that juice at least, and I'll get you some water," Mark said. He went to the bathroom and brought back a green bottle, opening it, he deposited two pills in Kyle's hand. From a mini fridge across the room he grabbed a bottle of water and placed it on the nightstand. Kyle took the pills with a sip of juice, praying for quick relief. He glanced around.

"Thanks for the water, but I didn't finish the bottle you gave me last night. Where'd it go?"

"Oh, that? I finished it after you passed out last night." He chuckled. "Dude, you were out like a light."

"It was a long day," Kyle sighed, leaning back against the pillows.

Mark sat at the foot of the bed, watching Kyle closely. A mischievous look crossed his face. "So, about those dreams you had..."

Kyle's face burned hotly and he had to look away. A shrill melody split the silent room suddenly, making him start; Mark looked over at Kyle's pile of clothes on his desk chair.

"My phone," Kyle said, the familiar ring tone continuing to play.

For a moment, it seemed like Mark wasn't going to get it, but he finally stood and strode over to Kyle's hoody, where the phone was still in the pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the screen, he smirked and held it up for Kyle to see: it was Stan. Without thinking, Kyle went to stand up, reaching out a hand towards his phone.

"Stay put," Mark said, bringing the phone over to him, "I don't need you almost wiping out again. Here." Pressing the phone into his hand, he headed for the door. "I'm going to go downstairs and get you some tea and dry toast; you know, sick people food." In the doorway he glanced back at Kyle. "Say hi to Stan for me." He smiled and was gone.

Kyle took a deep breath and answered. "Hello?"

"Are you okay?"

Kyle sighed. Stan was worrying again.

"Yes, of course I am. Do you just think I'm helpless or something?"

"No, but I thought you were going to call me so we could hang out today." Stan said.

"Well, you at least have to give me a chance to wake up and collect myself, Stan," Kyle said, laughing. "Besides, I'm not feeling so great this morning."

"Why, what's wrong?"

Kyle inhaled deeply, not sure how to respond.

"Kyle?" Stan said, impatiently.

"Well, I'm actually over at Mark's, and we kind of drank a shit ton of wine last night." He said, cringing as the words left his mouth.

"What? You're over at Mark's right now?" Stan asked.

"Yeah, and we smoked some weed, too."

Stan was silent for a moment. Kyle waited with baited breath, not sure why he felt guilty. It's not like anything happened.

He heard Stan let out a long breath. "So, you're hungover? Is that it?"

"Well, yeah, basically. You know what a lightweight I am."

"Why did you get drunk and high with Mark?"

Kyle leaned back against the pillows and looked out the windows, at the rain falling in sheets and the trees dripping. He tried to come up with an answer even though he wasn't really sure why he did what he did. There was the feeling of restlessness and the pressure that he had heaped on his own shoulders, not to mention the tension of worrying about Mark and blowing things out of proportion, which he had always been really good at doing. "I guess I just didn't want to think for awhile," he finally said. "I feel like I'm stuck in my own head sometimes, and I just wanted to relax. It wasn't my finest hour but it felt fun at the time."

"I guess that makes sense. You seemed really happy the night we stole those beers and went out to the pond, remember? You didn't seem as tense as you normally do." Stan responded.

Kyle smiled at the memory. "It wasn't just the beer that made me feel happy that night," he said. "I think there was a little bit more to it than getting drunk, don't you?"

"I'd like to think so," Stan said, and Kyle could hear the smile in his voice. "So, do you think you'll feel well enough to go out in a little bit?" He asked.

A wave of nausea passed over Kyle but he ignored it. "Yeah, definitely. I just have to muster up the energy."

"Well, don't push yourself too hard. I don't want you to be miserable just because I want to see you."

"I want to see you too. Just let me pull myself together, okay? I'll call you when I'm on my way over." Kyle turned over on his side, and wrapped his arm around a pillow. A splinter of a dream from the night before flashed through his mind unbidden; a hand locked around a wrist, but it was impossible to tell whose it could be, if it even belonged to anyone real. Then he saw an underwater room, green and gray, and a weightlessness that drifted him upwards. Kyle curled in on himself, wanting to forget even though he had wanted to remember before.

"Kyle are you still there?" Stan was asking, his voice faint because the phone had dropped from his ear onto the pillow. He picked it up.

"Yes, I'm here. I'm going to try and get up now. I'll call you in a little while." He said softly.

"Okay, babe. I'll be here."

Kyle ended the call, and laid the phone aside. He hugged the pillow to his chest, wishing it were Stan.

"Everything okay?"

Kyle looked over his shoulder to see Mark standing there holding a tray with a teacup and a plate of toast on it.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He sat up and Mark placed the tray over his legs. "You really didn't have to do all this," he said, feeling awkward about being served breakfast in bed by Mark of all people. Picking up a spoon, he stirred the tea to help it cool; fragrant steam wafting under his nose. The nausea abated slightly.

"It's really no big deal. After all, you did me a favor last night." Mark said, pulling his desk chair over to the side of the bed. He sat down to watch Kyle attempt to choke down his breakfast.

Kyle sipped the tea slowly but still managed to burn his lips. "I did?" He asked, rubbing his arm across his mouth.

"Yeah, you let me bitch and moan about my father and my sister and you kept me company. You even let me get you super wasted even though you clearly can't handle your alcohol."

Kyle nibbled his toast. "I tried at least."

"That you did, and I thank you." He looked over at Kyle's phone. "So, what did Stan want?"

"Oh, just to talk," he said vaguely.

"Just to talk," Mark repeated. "Well, he's a good friend, isn't he?"

"That's putting it mildly," Kyle said, casting his eyes downward and smiling. "He's actually my best friend."

"I can see why, if he calls you up first thing on a Saturday morning just to talk," Mark said. His eyes were green again, and Kyle could see amusement in them, but another inscrutable emotion was there, too.

"I should probably go soon," Kyle said, finishing his tea. He managed to finish one piece of toast but he didn't have the appetite for another. "I think the Excedrin is kicking in and that tea really helped."

Mark seemed surprised by this statement. "Are you sure? You don't want to rest for awhile longer in case you start feeling sick again?"

Kyle shook his head. "No, I think I'll be okay. Besides, Stan is waiting for me and I don't want him to think that I'm not coming or something's wrong. He tends to worry." He rolled his eyes.

"Right, of course," Mark responded, and that veiled emotion was there in his eyes again, but only for a moment. "Well, when you're ready I can drive you over to his house. I don't think you'll make it if you try to walk."

"No, you don't have to do that. I promise I'm fine," Kyle protested, waving his hands.

"It's fine, Kyle," He said, his tone a little clipped. He smiled. "Just let me know when you're ready to go."

"Did you seriously spend last night getting high and drinking with Mark?" Stan asked again, incredulously.

"Yes, dude, I already told you like 10 times. I even told you about the pancakes and the pool." Kyle was curled up next to Stan in his bed, the covers thrown across them. He folded a leg over one of Stan's, so they were intertwined.

"It just doesn't make any sense," Stan said, idly twisting a lock of Kyle's hair around his finger.

"I know. I was there and I'm still having a hard time believing it."

"So, what, are you guys friends now?"

Kyle shrugged one shoulder. "I guess so. He seems kind of lonely, you know? And he's actually pretty fun to hang out with, even though I really couldn't keep up with him."

"What do you mean?"

"The guy drinks like a fish, I couldn't believe it. And he smokes weed like he's been doing it all his life, and after all of that, he still took a Xanax before we went to bed."

Stan frowned. "You didn't take anything like that, did you?"

"No way. You know I don't want to mess around with pills, even if they're legal." He toyed with one of the buttons on Stan's shirt, managing to make it come undone.

"I never would've figured the home school kid was such a rebel," Stan remarked. "Who would've thought?"

"Right? And I couldn't believe how cool he was about me blowing up at him during tutoring," Kyle said. "I really misjudged him."

"Well, you do have a tendency to jump the gun."

"Sometimes, I guess," Kyle conceded.

"So, what are we going to do today?" Stan asked. He put his hand over Kyle's, which was in the process of undoing another button.

"This," Kyle said, gesturing at the bed. "I just want to stay here with you, alone. I don't have the energy to do anything else anyway."

"No energy, huh? We'll have to remedy that somehow," Stan said, bringing Kyle's hand to his lips and kissing the knuckles. "Why are you so tired anyway?"

"I guess it's the hangover, but it feels different from others I've had before. Not that I've had a lot," he admitted. "I don't think I'll be mixing alcohol and marijuana together again anytime soon, you wouldn't believe the dreams I had last night."

"Nightmares?"

"Not exactly. It was just bits and pieces, like a music video that someone edited the crap out of; just rapid fire images. Have you ever had sleep paralysis? I felt like something was sitting on my chest, and no matter what I did I couldn't move."

"That sounds awful."

"I seriously woke up feeling like I'd been hit by a truck. I ache all over."

"Well, turn over and I'll give you a massage. Would you like that?"

"Stan, I would fucking love that." He turned over with his arms folded under his chin. Stan sat up and slid his hands under Kyle's t shirt, rubbing the sore muscles in circular strokes.

Kyle felt like he could dissolve under those hands, and he closed his eyes. Before too long he had fallen asleep, but this time it was pure darkness, with no dreams; his mind the night sky bereft of stars.

The rest of the weekend passed smoothly even though it took Kyle awhile to start feeling like himself again. There was residual weakness and achiness in his body that carried over into Sunday but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle, but he made a promise to himself that he wouldn't be drinking or smoking again anytime soon. He was also a little disturbed that he couldn't really recall anything after climbing into bed with Mark Friday night. He chalked it up to basically passing out from all the crap he'd ingested, but it was still weird for his mind to essentially blank out after closing his eyes.

His Friday night dreams kept coming back to him in small bursts, but they continued to lack substance or meaning. The time he had spent with Stan on Saturday helped to sooth away the dreams and fatigue but it hadn't really produced any answers, which he supposed was just as well. The whole encounter with Mark left him feeling pensive and he spent Sunday bumming around the house, with the rains continuing to fall outside. If they didn't stop soon Kyle was pretty sure that the whole town was just going to float away.

He ran a bath for himself late Sunday evening, wanting to be alone with his thoughts and to prepare for the week ahead. He remembered Mark's old-fashioned claw foot tub and the decadence of his bathroom and was actually glad to be in a simpler place, away from the opulence. Mark was almost like a prince trapped in his castle, all alone in that gigantic, empty house. True, it was beautiful, but it seemed so lonely and quiet. No wonder he ranted about his sister and his father when he had so much time to sit in silence with his thoughts. Kyle took off his clothes and slid into the water, sighing and laying back to stare at the ceiling.

I wonder what he's doing right now? He thought. And I wonder why he was so nice to me, even after what I said?

A deeper, more closed off part of his mind also wondered why Kyle kept remembering little flashes of Mark, not of the things he said, but the parts of him that Kyle had to admit he admired to some degree. He lay there in the water and thought of color-shifting eyes and strong arms, and against his will he found himself comparing Mark to Stan. Stan's eyes were a pale blue, reliably clear and friendly, but also direct, and while Mark had a kind of lean strength to his build, Stan was a little bit bigger, with bulkier muscles from years of football.

Idly, Kyle reached up to grab a washcloth, but stopped when he saw his pale arm in the light of the bathroom. He'd been wearing a sweater the entire day so he hadn't really noticed anything out of the ordinary, but now that he was naked the dark bruises encircling his wrist became prominent. He lifted his other arm out of the water, and saw bruises around that wrist as well, they weren't as dark but they were undeniably there. Morbid curiosity made him look down at himself, at his thighs, and there were bruises there too. They hadn't been there yesterday, he was pretty sure, although he hadn't really been looking for them either.

Standing up, the water sluicing down his body, he stepped out of the tub to go and study himself in the mirror, which was slightly fogged from the steam emanating from the bath. There were marks on his shoulders and when he turned around, there were bruises on his back too, all along his rib cage. They were all in various stages of violet and blue; some still faint but others already dark; almost angry looking.

"What the hell?" He whispered. "No wonder I feel like I was hit by a train...where the fuck did these come from?"

He tried to think, to remember, but his mind was infuriatingly blank. He didn't do anything out of the ordinary with Stan the day before, just cuddling and taking it easy because he felt so tired and out of it. Maybe he woke up Friday night to use the bathroom at Mark's house and he fell? But that wouldn't explain the positioning of the bruises, would it? He was disturbed to notice that some of them were shaped like fingerprints. He went back to the tub to finish washing quickly, no longer wanting to be alone.

When Kyle was back in his room and dressed, he picked up his phone to call Stan. After turning it on, he saw that he had received a text notification, but it was from a number he didn't recognize. Puzzled, he opened it:

hey, just checking in to make sure you're okay.

He stared at the screen, trying to figure out who could've sent it. It couldn't have been Stan, he'd had the same number for years and he would've just told Kyle he was the one texting him instead of leaving him to guess. Other than him, the only other person that had any reason to see if he was feeling okay was-

"Mark." He said to the empty room. Who else could it be? He hadn't spoken to any of his other friends the whole weekend.

But I didn't give him my number, he thought. Or did I and I just don't remember?

Kyle was beginning to feel angry and not just confused. Why couldn't he remember anything? If that's what alcohol and weed did to your memory, tore it full of holes and left you feeling helpless and lost, he'd never touch any of that bullshit ever again. He glanced at his phone, reading the text again, and felt some of the rage dissipate, but only slightly. It was really very kind of Mark to ask him how he was feeling, especially since Kyle had been fully in control of all the wine he drank and all the weed he sucked into his lungs. He tapped out a reply, trying to choose his words carefully.

I'm okay, I guess. Is this Mark?

While waiting for a response, he sent another text to Stan, telling him about the bruises.

I look like someone beat the shit out of me, dude. You should see my back and my legs.

By the time he'd finished sending the message to Stan, a response was waiting from the unknown number.

Yeah, sorry. I should've told you who I was in the first text.

Kyle smiled.

It's okay, I just didn't remember giving you my number.

He thought a moment, hesitating, and then finally he added:

Thanks for checking in on me. I appreciate it.

Mark texted back almost immediately.

No problem. Yeah, you gave me your number late Friday night, right before you basically passed out.

Kyle frowned. Maybe Mark could shed some light on why he looked like he'd been mugged.

Um, I know this is a weird question, but did I get up to go to the bathroom that night and like, fall down a flight of stairs or something?

He hoped injecting some weak levity into the question would make it seem less bizarre. He waited for a response anxiously but this time Mark wasn't as quick. Finally, he replied.

I'm not sure what you mean?

Kyle sighed.

I mean, I looked in the mirror today and I'm covered in bruises and I honestly have no idea where they came from.

Mark took even longer to respond this time, no doubt taken aback by Kyle's question and weird subsequent explanation.

Ohhhh, now I get it. I don't know if it was the weed or booze or whatever but you started freaking out in the middle of the night. I had to hold you down because you were thrashing around...you even fell on the floor at one point.

Kyle could only stare at his phone in shock. While he tried to digest this bit of information, Mark sent him another text:

I meant to say something about it before but then I thought maybe you might have night terrors or something so I didn't want to make a big deal out of it. You scared the shit out of me, dude.

He couldn't think of what to say to that. Night terrors? No, he'd never experienced night terrors a day in his life. At least, he didn't think he had. His parents would have told him about them if he did, right? No, it had to have been a side effect of intoxication.

But the dreams? He thought, suddenly. Kyle hadn't really considered them nightmares or terrors at the time, but they had frightened and confused him. Were they enough to cause such a strong reaction? Enough to make him have such a physical response that he needed to be restrained? Flashes and pieces broke through a wall in his brain, that underwater room, floating & suspended, the feeling of powerlessness, and eyes with spiders pouring out of them; thick and black and crawling all over his body, everywhere. He shuddered.

Even though Kyle was the one who brought up the subject he didn't think that he could stomach talking about it anymore. He wrote his next text carefully, wanting it to seem like he was taking this new information in stride.

I'm sorry that I put you in that situation...I promise I'm not always this much trouble, lol.

Crawling into bed, Kyle waited for Mark to say something so he could put his phone aside and just go to bed. It was already after 11 and he didn't want to be awake and thinking anymore. He was disappointed that Stan hadn't texted him back but he was probably already asleep. Within a few minutes, Mark had responded, and Kyle was relived that he was letting the matter drop.

it's okay, Kyle. i promise that i'm not a raging alcoholic burnout, lol. Most of the time anyway. did you need a ride to school tomorrow, btw? I don't mind picking you up.

Kyle grinned stupidly at the unexpected offer but declined, telling Mark that he already had plans to meet Stan at Harbucks so they could get a coffee before walking to school together. As an afterthought, he asked if Mark wanted to join them.

Oh, right, Stan. I should've figured, lol. That's okay, I don't want to butt in on your plans. I'll just see you in homeroom, okay?

Kyle couldn't help feeling a little disappointed at the refusal but didn't dwell on it. Instead, he told Mark good night and that he'd see him the next day, which Mark responded to in kind. Setting the alarm on his phone for the next morning, he placed it on the nightstand and shut off the light. Even though he felt exhausted, sleep was a long time coming that night, his brain refusing to let him settle because he feared what was waiting in his dreams.

Kyle did dream that night, but it was a dream he'd had many times; one that he'd gotten used to, even if it made him uneasy. He dreamed that his teeth were falling out, one by one, and the ones that didn't fall out got longer and longer when he pulled on them, jutting from his mouth like jagged bones. He looked in the mirror and when he opened his mouth as wide as it would go, he saw that there were teeth growing in the roof of his mouth and down inside of his throat; molars and incisors making sharp points in the pink tissue.

Walking to Harbucks that morning, Kyle pushed thoughts of the dream out of his mind and tried to focus on his plans for that day. There was going to be a test in pre-calc but he wasn't too worried about it, and they were working on outlines for their essays in English which he actually looked forward to because he was working with Stan, who was honestly the better writer between the two of them; he was clever when it came to putting his thoughts into words. Kyle was too impatient and tended to rush through essays, so his writing would become disorganized unless he had Stan as his editor.

Inside the Harbucks, Kyle found Stan at their usual spot, his coffee waiting for him on the table. Kenny was there too, but Cartman was absent, most likely still in bed. Kyle sat beside Stan and gratefully took a sip of his latte while listening to them talk about football practice that afternoon.

"Coach isn't going to get off of our asses until we manage to beat North Park, dude," Stan said, taking a bite of a bagel.

"Well, he can kiss my ass, honestly," Kenny replied, sitting back in his chair. "I'm so over his tyrannical bullshit."

"You're just saying that because he made you run laps last week."

"I'm saying that because he's a fucking asshole."

"Yeah, because he ran your ass for the whole practice," Stan laughed.

"You're playing North Park this Friday, right?" Kyle asked, not being able to contribute much to the conversation. He didn't mind going to the games to support Stan but he wasn't into football nearly as much as his friends. Usually he hung out in the last row of the bleachers and did some reading during the games.

"Yeah, and we're going to get killed," Stan said.

"I doubt that. You guys destroyed them last year," Kyle responded, reaching over and taking a piece of Stan's bagel.

"During the regular season, dude, but then they obliterated us during the playoffs," Kenny said, sneering.

"Hmm," Kyle replied, his mind already drifting away from this conversation.

"Hey, I'm sorry I didn't respond to your texts last night," Stan said. "I fell asleep super early."

"Oh, it's okay," Kyle replied, waving a hand.

"Where do you think the bruises came from?"

Kyle felt uncomfortable answering that question with Kenny present. In fact, it kind of irritated him that Stan brought it up in front of him, even though he had no reason to think it was a private affair. Still, this wasn't really the time to talk about it as far as he was concerned.

"I don't know," he said. "Besides, it's not a big deal. I was just being dramatic."

"Not a big deal? You said you were covered in bruises; how is that being dramatic?" Stan asked.

"Wait, what's going on?" Kenny asked, leaning forward.

Now Kyle was really starting to feel uncomfortable. "I, uh, had a rough weekend," he muttered.

"And by rough he means that he had a pretty bad hangover," Stan explained to Kenny, who smirked at this bit of information. Kyle's irritation was turning into anger at Stan's insensitivity.

"It sounds like we had the same weekend," Kenny said. "With all that rain we had I was stuck in the house for two fucking days; I crushed a bottle of my dad's Grey Goose. Way to go, Kyle. We can be hangover brothers." He stretched out a fist in solidarity, but Kyle refused to fist bump him under the circumstances.

"I'm not proud of the fact that I became inebriated," he said, dismissively.

"That isn't even the best part," Stan said, as Kenny mimicked Kyle's holier than thou posturing. "Guess who he smoked with?"

"Stan," Kyle said, sharply.

"What, you mean weed?" Kenny asked.

"Yeah, man. He got totally wasted with -"

Kyle pushed himself away from the table abruptly and started walking out of the restaurant, leaving his coffee behind. He could hear Stan calling out to him but he ignored it, pushing through the front doors and out into the cold morning air. He was halfway to school by the time Stan caught up to him, with Kenny nowhere in sight.

"Kyle, wait!" He said, reaching out to grab his arm. Kyle pulled away from him and kept walking.

"Stop! What's wrong with you?" Stan ran in front of him to block his way. Kyle just walked around, refusing to look at him.

"Just leave me alone for awhile, Stan," he said. "I'll see you later."

Kyle continued to school by himself, feeling upset but confused too. A small part of him was sad when he didn't see Stan waiting at his locker to talk to him, but he brushed it off and went to homeroom. He needed time to think.

"What are you listening to?"

Kyle pulled his headphones out of his ears and looked up to see Mark standing there, pulling his backpack off and sitting down next to him. He'd decided to sit somewhere else that morning, not wanting to deal with Kenny who was casting him questioning looks from their usual places across the room.

"Oh, just something that helps me relax," Kyle responded, turning off his music and setting his phone aside. He had the habit of listening to the same two or three songs on repeat when he was feeling contemplative; a trait that Stan liked to kid him about but he said was also kind of cute. They called it Kyle's bathtub mix because that's where he retreated when he was in a mood.

Mark seemed to be in good spirits, commenting that Rebecca came home early Sunday after their father blew her off on Saturday night as well.

"I don't think she'll be going over there for awhile," Mark said, looking satisfied.

"Well, that's good, I guess. It just sucks that your dad could be so selfish," Kyle said.

"Yeah, but he'll never change so there's no point in dwelling on it, right?" Mark glanced at him. "Are you feeling okay?"

Kyle leaned his face on his hand and looked down at his desk. "Not really. I kind of want to go home and go back to bed. I don't know how I'm going to make it through the day, especially since I was stupid and volunteered to help with this blood drive after school."

"Oh, the one the Red Cross is hosting in the Wall-Mart parking lot?" Mark asked.

"Yeah," Kyle said, surprised. "How did you know about it?"

Mark rolled his eyes. "My mom. She asked if I would help out as a personal favor to her. She likes to constantly remind me that one donation can-"

"Save up to three lives," Kyle finished, smiling.

"So, I'll see you there?" Mark asked.

"I guess so."

"Are you going to donate?"

"Nah, I'm AB+ so my blood doesn't really go very far. I'd donate platelets but I'm not old enough." Kyle responded.

"You have the most selfish blood type," Mark said.

"Not where my plasma is concerned," Kyle replied, smiling.

"Why are you volunteering?" Mark asked. "Are you just a Good Samaritan or something?"

"Hardly. I need the exposure."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I want to be a doctor so I'm trying to get as much experience in the medical industry as possible."

"Well, that explains why you're so interested in my mother's work," Mark said.

"It's fascinating."

"I suppose."

"What, you don't think so?" Kyle asked, surprised.

He shrugged. "I don't really have much of an opinion, I guess. Her work has always just been a part of who she is, even when she wasn't practicing. It was always just in the background. Rounds and hospitals and patients calling her day and night...they don't really have any meaning to me anymore."

He looked at him.

"Are you sure you're not just interested in the glamorous part of being a doctor?"

"I think I just want to do something that might help people." Kyle responded, looking at his hands, a little hurt by that question.

"That's very noble," Mark responded. "But to be honest, I'd probably just do it for the money."

"But you already have plenty of money," Kyle said. "Why do you need more?"

Mark scoffed. "That isn't my money, Kyle. That's my parent's...well, not my dad's, of course. He's lucky if he clears six figures a year. No, I can't act like the money my family has belongs to me. It doesn't count unless I've earned it."

Kyle couldn't argue with that. "Well, money is great, but that's not what my motivation is."

"You remind me of my mom. Speaking of which, if you're so dead set on this career path I could talk to her about maybe helping you out, if you wanted."

"That'd be great! Would you really do that for me?"

"Of course. We're friends, aren't we?" He smiled warmly.

Kyle looked away, feeling embarrassed but grateful. "I don't know if I would think of being a doctor as a glamorous profession, by the way."

"Okay, maybe not glamorous, but don't think for a second that there aren't doctors that don't get off on the power that goes along with the job; the prestige. Believe me, I've met a lot of my mom's colleagues and some of them have major God complexes." He thought for a moment. "I guess it makes sense that sociopaths are so drawn to the medical field."

"Sociopaths?" Kyle asked.

"Well, think about it. You're less likely to get emotionally involved with your patients so you're less afraid to make the tough decisions that will end up benefiting them more in the long run. And you won't agonize over losing patients either because it's just an inevitable part of the job; it just comes with the territory."

Kyle hadn't really thought about that. "That makes sense. Although I don't think I'd be comfortable being taken care of by a sociopath, even if they are good at their job. I mean, what's to stop them from just killing someone because they don't care?"

"That'd be stupid, Kyle. Why would they kill someone unless it could be beneficial to them in the long run? They're way more focused on getting ahead than just mindlessly killing people that don't matter." He thought a moment. "Unless they're angels of death who just get off on being in control of people's lives."

"You know a disturbing amount of information on this subject," Kyle commented.

The bell rang, and Kyle stood up and pulled his bag onto his shoulder. He looked over at Kenny who was alternating between looking at him and then glancing at Mark. Kyle turned away, falling into step beside Mark as they walked out into the hallway. They had made it only partway to their next class when Kyle felt a hand on his shoulder; he turned to see Stan.

"I need to talk to you," he said.

"Stan, I have to get to class." He didn't feel like talking right now, at least not about anything Stan would want to talk about. He was also still pissed that he was blabbing all of his business to Kenny like it was a big joke; especially after he told him about the bruises. They had honestly scared the hell out of him and he didn't really feel like Stan was taking him seriously.

"Please, Kyle. I'm sorry if I did something to upset you. At least give me a chance to know what I did wrong." His eyes were beseeching. Kyle noticed that Stan was also throwing furtive glances at Mark too, like he didn't understand why he was standing there waiting for Kyle.

"Fine, we can talk during lunch, okay?" He relented. "But we both seriously need to move or we're going to be late."

"I don't care about being late, Kyle. I just want to make sure we're okay." Stan said, stubbornly refusing to move. Mark just stood by, watching the melodrama unfold with a passive expression. Kyle began to feel overly warm from the crush of people in the hallway and feeling like he was being watched because of the scene Stan was making.

"Look, I promise we're fine. Can we please just talk about this at lunch?" Kyle pleaded.

Stan nodded, his face somber. He looked at Mark who raised his eyebrows and smiled.

"I'll meet you by your locker, okay?" He said.

"Okay, now hurry and get to class." Kyle turned away and hurried down the hall, with Mark trailing behind. He looked back once and saw that Stan was still standing there, his face sad.

The morning passed quickly to Kyle's relief. Being cool with Mark was actually pretty beneficial when it came to his classes, and Wendy was eager to invite him into their little study circle so they could all help each other out. By the time lunch rolled around, Kyle was ready to just get over himself and make up with Stan, conceding to the fact that he was probably being overly sensitive and Stan wasn't intentionally trying to hurt his feelings. They met up at Kyle's locker and after grabbing something to eat, they headed outside to sit under their favorite tree.

"I'm sorry I was being so emotional this morning," Kyle said, twisting the cap off a bottle of water. "I guess I was still just feeling weird after this weekend."

"Well, I shouldn't have put all of your business out there in front of Kenny," Stan replied. He bumped Kyle's shoulder. "Although, I'm not sure why you'd be bothered about Kenny knowing. He gets drunk and high all the time, I'm pretty sure he's not going to judge you."

"I know, I just felt dumb. When Kenny gets wasted he doesn't make an ass of himself."

"Oh, yes, he does. Remember when we all went camping and he drank that Jack Daniels? He tried to go skinny dipping in the middle of the night and got caught in the current and we didn't find him until the next morning, butt naked in somebody else's campsite like half a mile away?"

Kyle laughed. "Oh, my god, I forgot about that. Dude, he almost got arrested for public nudity."

"Yeah, so stop thinking that you're the only one who acts a fool after they've had a few. Besides, you didn't even do anything remotely embarrassing so I'm not sure why you feel this way."

Kyle looked away and saw Mark coming out into the courtyard with Rebecca to sit at their usual table. Rebecca's hair was up in a bun and she was wearing a white sweater with dark jeans. Mark was wearing the smile he reserved only for her, but he looked away for a moment to wave to Kyle. He waved back but Stan didn't; rather, he just stared at Mark with a frown.

"Mark told me I started freaking out in the middle of the night," Kyle said. He was about to take a bite of an apple but put it back down, not really having an appetite.

"You freaked out? What does that mean?"

"I mean, he didn't go into excessive detail but he said that i was acting like I had night terrors or something." He paused, not really wanting to tell him the rest because it made him feel weird.

"Dude, we've known each other since we were babies and I've never seen you have a night terror," Stan said, one eyebrow raised. "And we've spent the night at each other's houses tons of times."

Kyle shrugged. "Maybe it was being intoxicated or whatever but he said that he had to..." he trailed off, looking over at Mark and Rebecca again. They were laughing about something; Rebecca's hand resting on Mark's arm.

Stan shifted into his line of sight. "He had to what?"

"He said he had to restrain me because I was thrashing around. Those were his exact words." He looked down, feeling ashamed.

Stan cleared his throat, seemingly trying to process what Kyle was telling him. Kyle looked up at him, and saw that Stan's attention was focused on Mark, his eyes narrowed.

"Let me see some of these bruises you told me about," he said, suddenly.

Kyle looked at him quizzically for a moment, surprised by this abrupt request but pushed up one of his sleeves anyway, bringing the bruises circling his wrist into view. Stan's eyes widened. Reaching out, he took hold of Kyle's other arm and rolled up that sleeve too, revealing the bruises around that wrist as well.

"And there are more, right?" He asked, quietly.

"Yes, on my legs and my back," Kyle replied.

"So, he told you that these bruises came from him restraining you because of nightmares or terrors or whatever?"

"He said he wasn't sure what was making me act like that so it was just conjecture on his part. I'm thinking it was just from all of the alcohol and weed. I've never had that much to drink before and I've never smoked in my life."

"And you're sure that you didn't take anything else, right?" Stan asked.

"Yes, I already told you that."

Stan just looked at him silently, his brow furrowed.

"What?" Kyle finally asked when he couldn't take the silence anymore.

"Kyle, what really happened that night?"

"Huh? I already told you what happened."

"Yeah, but something isn't adding up here. I mean, I can believe that Mark made these bruises but I'm not buying the rest of the story. Something just feels off. So, if something else happened and you're having a hard time telling me, here's your chance to just, you know, get it off your chest."

Kyle just stared at him like he was losing his mind. "Stan, what are you implying right now?"

"I don't know, Kyle. I'm just imagining different scenarios for what could've happened Friday night and some are easier to stomach than others, even though they're all awful. I just need you to tell me the truth."

Something clicked in Kyle's brain suddenly, and he had to restrain himself from slapping Stan across the face. "You think I did something with Mark, don't you?"

Stan at least had the good sense to look sheepish after being asked that question, but he nodded anyway. What he said next made the color drain out of Kyle's world and left him hanging in a void devoid of sound or sunlight. "It's either that or Mark slipped you something and, well..."

He gave Kyle a stricken look instead of finishing his thought.

Kyle shook his head, feeling like he was drowning. "No, no. That did not happen. Neither of those things happened. You're being fucking crazy right now."

Stan reached out to take Kyle's hand but he slapped him away, repulsed. "No, you don't get to touch me after saying awful shit like that. How the fuck did you even jump to those conclusions anyway?"

Stan shrugged helplessly. "I mean, you said you can't remember anything after going to sleep and now you have these bruises. Not to mention, Mark's flimsy excuse as to how they even got there."

Kyle stood up, afraid he was going to be sick. "So, it's either I was drugged and violated," he paused, hating the sound of those words coming out of his mouth, "or I willingly cheated on you with Mark? Those are my only two options here?"

Stan had gotten to his feet by this point and was trying to calm him down. "I don't know what I'm saying right now, Kyle, okay? I just see these marks on you and you seemed so out of it this weekend and you have no memory of anything after a certain point. I'm just worried about you and it terrifies me that something may have happened to you." He sounded like he was going to start crying.

Kyle wrapped his arms around himself, almost like he was attempting to shield himself from this whole ugly conversation. "If you were really worried about my well-being you wouldn't be accusing me of cheating on you in the same breath as the rest of that disgusting bullshit."

"Honestly, if I had to make a choice between the two I'd rather you cheated on me, Kyle. At least that's something I could live with a little bit more easily. The thought of someone making it so you couldn't fight back so they could take advantage of you...I can't even begin to imagine living with that knowledge." Kyle noticed that Stan's hands were clenched into fists at his sides. "And if Mark seriously did that to you I'm going to fucking murder him."

"That's touching," Kyle said, sarcastically. "Nothing like that happened. I didn't sleep with him willingly or unwillingly, okay? Don't you think I'd realize if," he faltered over his next words, "if I'd done something like that with him? Nothing feels different. I don't feel different. I had a bad reaction to the stuff I did and I freaked the fuck out. End of story."

Stan just looked at him sadly and it made Kyle want to cry. He couldn't possibly accept that what Stan said was true. He refused. And he also couldn't stomach the fact that Stan could ever think he was capable of cheating on him. Just the idea broke his heart, this idea that Stan even thought he was capable of that. It tore at his insides and burned like acid in his veins.

And then there was the other possibility that Kyle was afraid to even contemplate. What if the dreams weren't dreams? What if they were memories mixed with hallucinations? The eyes, the hand around his wrist instead of a strangers, floating upwards in the gloom, and that horrible overwhelming feeling of being completely helpless? He willed the thoughts away because they were too much to process.

"I have to get the hell out of here," Kyle said. "I can't be here right now."

"What? But, Kyle, what about the rest of your classes?" Stan said, coming toward him. Kyle put out a hand to keep him away

"Fuck school. I'm going home and I'm going to bed."

"I'm coming with you then," Stan said.

Kyle shook his head. "No, I want to be alone. Just give me some time to think, please."

For the first time in his life, Kyle cut school and managed to wander home in what felt like a dazed fog of confusion and disbelief. His mother was in the living room when he got there, busying herself with chores and completely shocked to see Kyle home in the middle of a school day. When Kyle explained to her how he wasn't feeling well and that he'd been throwing up all morning, she quickly bundled him off to bed, chastising him only briefly about not telling anyone before leaving the school. She remedied that with a quick phone call, and then checked in on Kyle to see if he needed anything.

"No, mom. I just want to go to sleep for awhile," Kyle said, looking lost amidst the quilts and pillows his mom had piled around him.

She'd kissed his forehead tenderly, just like when he was a little boy and told him to call for her if he needed anything. She'd drawn the curtains against the sunshine and closed the door softly, leaving Kyle with his thoughts. In the dimness, he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling for hours until his eyes started buzzing with lights that resembled fireflies, lost in his thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

**Lying here in the darkness**  
 **I hear the sirens wail**  
 **Somebody going to emergency**  
 **Somebody's going to jail**  
 **If you find somebody to love in this world**  
 **You better hang on tooth and nail**  
 **The wolf is always at the door**

\- Don Henley, "New York Minute"

The next couple of days were very difficult for Kyle while he attempted to process his thoughts and work through the emotions that seemed to be slamming him in the face constantly. He'd never been told that grief could hollow a person out until they weren't the same, how the power of it was like having his guts wrenched out and twisted into something unrecognizable and then put back in the wrong order. His whole being seemed like it was out of focus and try as he might he couldn't put the pieces of himself back into a likeness he could tolerate. In fact, even though he wanted to be completely alone, he couldn't stand to be with himself.

He tried distracting himself by reading and doing schoolwork but he couldn't concentrate. He refused to answer his phone or look at his texts; social media was out of the question and he didn't leave his room to eat dinner with his family. Kyle sequestered himself in his room and drowned out the outside world as much as he could, but bits and pieces of it continued to leak in against his will. His mom and dad tried to get him to talk but he refused, telling them that he didn't feel well and to just leave him alone; that he'd come to them when he was ready.

His appetite alternated between being nonexistent and ravenous. There were some days that he would go without eating at all, and then by the time night fell he would find himself sneaking into the kitchen after everyone else was asleep to raid the fridge and cupboards. He'd sit on the floor in front of the open fridge, bathed in its light, while stuffing anything he could find into his mouth: jelly straight from the jar, cold, salty pickles, slices of cheese and whatever was leftover from dinner; anything was fair game. He'd eat until his stomach ached with fullness but even then he wouldn't stop, and on a couple of occasions he'd eaten so much that he threw up when he made it back upstairs.

The same applied to bathing; he'd go without showering for days and then all of a sudden he would have to take a bath that very moment, usually in the middle of the night and then he'd sit in the tub long after the water had turned cold, so he'd be left shivering and shriveled like an oversized raisin. He seemed to be operating in extremes with very little middle ground, he could either do something but only in excess, or not at all.

The only thing that seemed to hold his attention at all were music videos, so he found himself constantly on YouTube watching the same ones over and over. He wasn't sure if it was the music or the images or both that kept him focused and he didn't care so long as they provided even an ounce of comfort or distraction. The ones he liked the most were usually really surreal and hyper-sexual, with images of people in bondage and chains, with bare legs and chests and sexually charged imagery playing relentlessly. After he would saturate himself with countless videos he would fall into restless periods of sleep where his dreams would mirror what he'd just watched, and he'd wake up with his heart beating a frantic staccato in his chest like it would burst at any moment.

One dream stood out more vibrantly than the others and it seemed to play on repeat inside of Kyle's head, like there was a tiny projector inside his brain that would screen that dream on a loop. In the dream, he was seated on a giant throne wearing an ornate ball gown with layers and layers of fluffy petticoats spreading out around him and falling over the arms of the chair. The dress was hiked up in the front so his legs were on display and his feet bare, and piled all around him were thousands of shoes in hundreds of different color and styles. Seated before him were Mark and Stan and sometimes Rebecca, all of them slipping different shoes on his feet as he sat slumped in the chair, and his eyes were dead and blank. There was a golden crown perched on his head but there was also a choker circling his throat, and attached to it was a chain that looped around the throne. He wasn't sure who was supposed to be royalty in the dream; was he a prince or a servant?

It wasn't until Friday night that his mother finally put her foot down and said enough was enough. If Kyle kept refusing to speak to anyone or go to school she was going to force him to go see a psychiatrist, and that seemed to snap him out of his stupor; at least enough so that he didn't feel comfortable completely isolating himself anymore.

"I'm sorry, Kyle. I really don't like giving you ultimatums but I can't help you if you won't talk to us," she said, wringing her hands.

Kyle had finally allowed his parents into his room and they stood there looking helpless, with Kyle sitting on his bed and refusing to look them in the face. His phone lit up at his side with another call from Stan, but he angrily sent the call to voicemail. His parents looked at each other worriedly.

"Sweetheart, you're barely functioning right now and I don't know why. What happened?" His mother pleaded with him.

Kyle shifted uncomfortably, the TV remote lodged under one of his thighs. He pulled it out from under himself and threw it on the bed.

"I'll go back to school but I'm not talking about anything," he said, tightly. "Nothing happened anyway. I told you, I just didn't feel well the past couple of days. I had food poisoning or something."

"We believe that you weren't feeling well, son, but we think there's more going on than that," his father said.

"I don't care what you think," Kyle said.

"Did something happen at school?" His mom asked. "Stanley has been by every day but you won't talk to him. Did you two have a fight?"

"Shut up! That's none of your business!" Kyle yelled.

"Kyle!" His father stepped forward, his voice stern. "Don't speak to your mother that way. We're only trying to help."

"I don't want your help," Kyle replied, turning his back on them.

"Kyle, please. Just talk to us."

Kyle could feel tears stinging his eyes and he angrily brushed them away. "Fine," he said. "If you want to help me, then I have something to ask you."

His mother came over to his side and tried to look in his face, Kyle turned away. "What, Kyle?"

He sighed, fighting back the tears, his nose burning like he needed to sneeze. "Did I ever have night terrors as a kid?"

"What?" His father asked, sounding confused.

"Did I ever have night terrors?" He asked again, angry that he had to repeat himself when it was already so difficult to speak without sobbing.

"Well," his mother said, "for awhile when you were really little, yes, you did have trouble sleeping. There was a couple years there where you were terrified to go to sleep, but you were very young so we just thought it was your imagination." She thought a moment and then added, "You were always a very anxious child so I think that was part of the problem."

Kyle turned around to look at her. "Really?"

"Yes, we almost took you to a therapist but I guess you grew out of them before it came to that. Usually it's just a phase that children go through."

"But Stan said he never saw anything like that when we had sleepovers."

His father smiled. "You two didn't start sleeping over at each other's houses until you were 6 or 7. You'd grown out of your sleep issues long before that."

"Kyle, where is all of this coming from?" His mother asked.

"Why didn't you guys ever tell me about this?" He asked, ignoring her question.

Mrs Broflovski glanced at her husband. "I'm not sure, to be honest. I guess we just didn't want to bring it up because it was such a stressful time, and you were finally getting better." She shrugged. "I suppose we just didn't want to dwell on something that was so unpleasant."

Kyle looked down at his hands as he mulled over this explanation. A small part of him was starting to see a glimmer of a chance that Stan's suggestion was false, but another part of him was still terrified and terribly confused.

"Kyle?"

He looked up, and his mother was looking at him with naked concern on her face. "Why won't you tell us what's going on?"

He stood up and went over to his dresser where he started pulling out a pair of jeans and a shirt.

"What are you doing?" His father asked. He'd walked over to Kyle's mother and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"I have to go out."

"Go out? Where?"

Glancing at the clock, Kyle saw that it was already 6:30. "To Stan's football game. I've never missed one; he'll expect me to be there."

"But you've been sick! I don't think it's a good idea for you to go out when it's so chilly tonight."

"I'll be fine, mom. I'll wear a coat, okay? I just need to get out of my room for awhile."

"If you're sure, Kyle. But, please, don't be out too late. I'll fix a plate up for you when we have dinner so you can have it when you get home, alright?" His mother asked, anxiously.

"Sure thing," he replied, and he was actually able to smile for the first time in days. The relief on his parents' faces was so profound that he almost wanted to cry.

"Come on, Gerald, let's give Kyle some privacy." Sheila said, ushering Mr. Broflovski out of the room. Before leaving, she looked back at Kyle.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

Even though Kyle had no intention of disclosing the truth behind what was really bothering him, he didn't want to lie if he could help it. He looked at her and shrugged. "I really don't know, mom. But I'm going to try to be, at least."

As Kyle walked to the school that night, he couldn't stop thinking about how quickly things could change, and how strange the world looked to him now. It had been less than a week but he felt like everything was different. He walked down the same streets and passed the same houses, he took his familiar route to school with the same familiar sounds and smells, but a metamorphosis had occurred within him; and even if it wasn't visible from an outsider's perspective, he knew that he couldn't be the same.

He supposed he had always tended to be naive, and would continue to be, but not like he was before. Now his mind had been opened to new threats that he'd never had to think about before, and although he didn't realize it at the time, it had stripped him of a piece of his childhood. He would look back on this time in his life when he was older and off on his own, being an adult with an adult's responsibilities, and would realize that the end of innocence doesn't happen in an instant, but is a systematic breakdown that comes through a series of betrayals and bitter pills that life gave you no option but to swallow.

Kyle knew that he was clutching at straws right now, that what his parents told him didn't necessarily mean that the awful possibilities weren't true, but at the very least they had given him enough comfort to at least try and make sense of his life again. He'd never had the foundation of his life so shaken before, where it had gotten to the point where he had checked out and refused to deal with it, opting instead to lay in his bed and let the world carry on without him, because the load he was made to shoulder became too heavy. For now, with this possibility of salvation, he had enough strength to try and keep going.

He'd made it to the school where he could see the lights from the stadium pouring out into the night, and the sounds of cheering and the band playing an upbeat march ringing in his ears. After being in his room all week and by himself, the idea of a huge crowd of people made him feel fragile; like he'd shatter from the din like a vase pushed off a table. He pulled the hood of his jacket over his head and tried to make himself small and unobtrusive as he walked over to the field. Climbing up the bleachers, he kept his head down as the crowd roared.

Standing in the nosebleed section, he looked out at the field to search for Stan, but was surprised to see that he wasn't playing. Instead, he saw him sitting on the bench, his elbows on his knees and watching the game. He couldn't believe it; as far back as he could remember, he'd never seen Stan riding the bench at the beginning of a game. He was always first string.

"Kyle! Over here!"

He looked around at the sound of his name and saw Wendy waving to him a couple of rows over. She was sitting with Bebe and Heidi and some of the other girls. Some of his friends were sitting in the seats behind them, glancing at Kyle curiously. Reluctantly, he walked over to join them, sitting down beside Wendy after she had made room for him.

"Where have you been?" She asked, looking pretty in her violet pea coat and the autumn air putting rosy color in her cheeks.

"I've been sick," he responded. His eyes were still glued to the #7 on the back of Stan's uniform. "Why isn't Stan playing?"

He saw Bebe and Wendy exchange glances. "What?" He asked.

"He got suspended from the game," Wendy replied, looking uncomfortable. "I'm surprised he didn't tell you himself."

"Suspended? Why?"

Wendy wasn't one to gossip so she was reluctant to answer this question, but running her mouth was Bebe's bread and butter so she was only too happy to tell Kyle what she knew.

"There's a rumor going around that he beat the crap out of Mark," she said. "Of course, I can't really confirm that but that's what everyone is saying. Anyway, he's been suspended from this game and the next one as punishment."

"You're not serious," Kyle said.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Bebe said, motioning with a white-mittened hand.

Kyle looked at Wendy, who nodded slightly.

"I can't believe it. Why would he do that?"

"Haven't you talked to him at all this week?" Wendy asked, gently.

"I haven't talked to anyone this week," he replied.

South Park ended up losing to North Park that night, but not without putting up a valiant effort. Kyle was worried, knowing that Stan would blame himself for the loss because he had made it so he couldn't play, and no amount of arguing would convince him otherwise. Breaking away from the crowd, Kyle waited for Stan in the parking lot, where he found his beat-up little car. Stan must have been working on it this week because it had been out of commission since the third week of school, and was constantly in a state of disrepair. Kyle sat on the hood, watching as the stadium emptied out.

Finally, he saw Stan walking across the parking lot, having changed into his street clothes and carrying a gym bag slung on his shoulder. He was walking with some of his teammates but when he saw Kyle he waved to them and hurried towards him.

"Hey," Kyle said, waving a little and smiling.

"I didn't think you'd be here," he replied, jogging over.

"I haven't missed a game yet, so I'm not going to start now," Kyle shrugged, sliding off the hood of the car. Feeling awkward, he brushed off the seat of his pants and avoided looking Stan in the eye. He knew Stan would blame himself for missing the game but Kyle felt guilty for starting the whole mess in the first place.

"It's not like it would've mattered if you weren't here," Stan said. "I didn't get to play anyway." He opened the door to the backseat and threw his bag inside. Slamming the door, he leaned back against it with his hands in his pockets.

"Well, it matters to me, whether you play or not," Kyle replied. "So, I heard from Bebe that you might have gotten into a fight."

Stan rolled his eyes. "Leave it to Bebe to run her big mouth," he muttered. "Yeah, I might have slammed someone into a locker." He paused. "A couple of times," he continued.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that it was Mark who got slammed into a locker," Kyle said, crossing his arms.

Stan looked away and let out a breath, the weather turning cold enough that Kyle could see it hanging frostily in the air. "Maybe."

Kyle walked over to him and before hesitating a moment, reached out to touch his arm. "Why? Why did you do that? Now you can't play."

Stan pulled his arm away and looked at Kyle, his face irritated. "Really, Kyle? How could you possibly ask me a question like that? I don't give two shits about football if that dirty prick did something to you." He leaned his head back against the top of the car, his face tilted up toward the sky. "Besides, I'm only going to miss two games. Coach pulled some strings so I didn't get pulled for the rest of the season."

"But, still," Kyle said. "You didn't have to do that. I really don't want you getting into trouble for me. I mean, I appreciate that you wanted to protect me, but what did it prove? You look like a bully and, sure, Mark was probably made fun of for getting his ass kicked, but he's probably getting sympathy too."

"I know, but I was so angry, Kyle. After you'd been out of school for a couple of days and you wouldn't answer my calls or respond to my messages I knew you must have been having a really hard time. And then I saw fucking Mark walking around school like nothing was wrong and I just lost it." He pushed himself away from the car and started pacing, his voice almost frantic now. "So, I skipped practice one day and waited for him at his locker and just went crazy on him."

"Wow, but did you even tell him why you were attacking him? Like, did you even ask him anything?" Kyle asked.

"Well, no, not really. I kind of just saw red and before I knew it I was bouncing him off his locker," Stan replied, running a hand through his hair. "You should've seen how his sister responded, dude. She was hysterical."

"Well, can you really blame her? Suddenly her brother is getting jumped and they have no clue why," Kyle said, feeling a little sorry for Rebecca. A small part of him also felt bad for Mark in case he was actually innocent. "My parents also told me that I did have night terrors as a kid," he added.

Stan stared at him, his forehead creased. "Yeah, so?"

"Well, I mean, Mark could've been telling the truth," Kyle said, quietly.

Stan ran both his hands through his hair now, a gesture he typically made when he was really frustrated about something. "You've got to be kidding me. There's no way you believe that, right?" He looked at Kyle when he didn't respond. "Right?"

"Well, I honestly don't know."

"Are you fucking for real? So you had night terrors as a kid, so what? It's still a flimsy ass excuse in this situation. That psycho could've drugged you and violated you and you're going to buy that bullshit explanation?" Stan shouted.

A weeks' worth of anger, humiliation, and fear broke through Kyle's defenses in an instant when Stan yelled at him like that. He thought back to the nights of restless sleep and terrible dreams and sitting in front of the fridge at 3am, stuffing his face like a feral animal and being in the bathtub until it was ice cold and feeling like he'd never be clean again, and Kyle just cracked.

"What do you want me to do, Stan?" He exploded. "Huh? It's almost like you don't even want to consider the possibility that nothing fucking happened that night!"

"What? No, that's fucking ridiculous. I just-"

"Just fucking let me have this," Kyle seethed, cutting him off. "I didn't even want to leave my room until my parents told me that stuff, and now you're trying to take it away. I can't imagine going to school or waking up in the morning and seeing the sun or just existing if I can't at least be given the option that nothing happened to me. Do you get that?"

Stan could only stare at him wordlessly, but his silence spoke volumes to Kyle.

"No, of course you don't get that," he said, almost laughing. "Because you're not in my position, and you've never been in my position. I pray to God that you never are, but for now, stop acting like you know what's best for me because you have no fucking clue what this feels like."

His voice broke into pieces as the tears finally began to fall; tears he'd been holding back the entire week. "I know I'm being stupid, that I'm being naive and clueless and whatever, but Jesus Christ, if it makes it so I can even consider going on, isn't that enough? And how would knowing the truth make me feel any better anyway? Wouldn't it be worse?"

Stan came over to Kyle but had the presence of mind not to try and touch him. "I just don't think it's a good idea to lie to yourself. I think you need to know what happened so you can try to heal. This isn't healing, Kyle. It's just pretending that nothing happened."

Kyle looked at him but through the tears he was an unrecognizable mess, much like Kyle at the moment. The thought of it would've been amusing under different circumstances. "What are you imagining here, Stan? Do you think there's going to be this huge confrontation between me and Mark where he confesses everything and then volunteers to go to the police? What planet are you on?"

Wiping an arm across his eyes, Kyle tried to collect himself but knew it was impossible. He coughed, trying to clear his throat of tears and mucus. "So I ask Mark flat out if he did something to me, and then what? Either he lies or has definitive proof that nothing happened and then I look completely stupid and crazy. Yeah, that'll really help me feel better."

"What if we went to the police ourselves?" Stan asked, helplessly. "Couldn't they do a rape kit or something?"

Now Kyle really did laugh. "You've watched way too much Law and Order, Stan. Besides, I've taken about a million baths since last week so they wouldn't find anything anyway. And if Mark gave me anything it left my bloodstream a long time ago so they can't even check for that."

"So, what can we do? Anything? Or do we just act like nothing happened because we wouldn't be able to know for sure anyway?"

Kyle nodded. "I guess so. Honestly, my body doesn't feel any different. My head is totally fucked up from the idea that Mark did something, but other than the bruises I seriously feel the same."

"Aside from the fact that your mind is a fucking blank after a certain point," Stan said, sounding bitter.

"I did drink and smoke a lot, Stan. Or did you forget that part?"

"Of course I didn't. Christ, Kyle, we wouldn't even be having this conversation right now if you hadn't..."

"If I hadn't what?" Kyle bristled.

"Well, what the hell were you thinking hanging out with that guy and then getting wasted?" Stan asked.

Kyle reeled like he'd been punched in the gut. "Are you really asking me that question? What does it matter?"

"It matters a lot, Kyle. I mean, look at the situation we're in now."

"There's no fucking way I could've known this was going to happen," Kyle said. "And now you're blaming me because someone else could've..." he shook his head at the thought. "And what do you mean the situation 'we're' in? The last time I checked, you didn't need to be a part of any of this. You're just insisting on fucking getting into my business."

"What are you talking about? Of course this is my business. You're my goddamn boyfriend!"

"Don't do me any favors," Kyle replied.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're a fucking asshole and I can't believe you're basically accusing me of getting myself raped! You are fucking unbelievable!" Kyle shouted. He turned to him and wanted to punch his face in, throw something at him, do anything to make these awful feelings just go away.

Stan strode over to him and ignoring Kyle's protests, pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, and Kyle could feel his heart buzzing in his chest like it was a frightened, helpless creature. For a moment, he tried to push him away, but finally collapsed against him, needing to feel like somebody cared. He'd gone without human contact for the whole week and he felt starved and hollowed out, like everything good had been ripped from him and the only things that had been left were the things that wanted to destroy him. He started to sob.

"I didn't know, Stan," he cried. "I didn't ask for this."

"I know, Kyle. It's okay. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. If anything happened, it's that dirty fuckers fault; not yours." He held him close, rubbing his hair and his back, sheltering him like his mother used to do when he was little and woke up from a bad dream. The fact that the bad dreams had leaked into real life where Kyle couldn't wake up from them and escape terrified him. All he could do was cling to Stan and try to weather the storm.

"I'm not going to confront him. I can't," Kyle said, starting to calm down.

"No one's going to force you," Stan replied, the heat from his body bleeding through his jacket and reaching Kyle. "You need to do what you're comfortable with; what you can live with."

"Let's just forget all about this, okay? We won't say anything and we'll just assume I was hallucinating. No harm, no foul." Kyle looked up at him, searching his face desperately. Stan looked tired and sad but nodded.

"Fine, if that's what you want," he said.

At this point, Kyle couldn't have said exactly what he wanted; not entirely, anyway. What he did know was that he was tired of thinking about all of this, and just wanted to go back to normal. Whatever normal was now, anyway.

He hugged Stan, still feeling horribly alone even though he was in his arms, but was starting to feel a little better because they had reached some sort of conclusion with all of this. Whether or not it was the right one remained to be seen, but at least it was a place to start.

The next week passed easily enough for Kyle, all things considered. He still had trouble sleeping and concentrating, but through a herculean effort on his part, no one on the outside could tell that he was falling apart; piece by piece.

The sporadic moments of appetite had all but disappeared, rendering Kyle with no desire to eat at all. He'd returned to eating dinner with his family, but most of the time he pushed his food around on his plate, only taking a couple of bites when all was said and done. His parents had noticed but hadn't said anything yet, chalking it up to teenage surliness, but Kyle's mother had made a mental note to speak with his doctor, in case there was anything else she should be doing.

As a result, Kyle's clothes had started to become loose on him, and he felt tired very easily. He started developing headaches by the end of the day, and if he stood up too fast black dots and colored lights would flash in front of his eyes, and he'd have to lean on something in order stay upright. Kyle had always been skinny but now he was bordering on frail, like a strong gust of wind would blow him away. He always felt cold, even when he was inside the house and sitting in front of the fireplace, a fire blazing on the hearth and wrapped in one of his mother's homemade quilts.

South Park had been plunged into the very heart of Autumn, and with it came frigid nights and early morning frosts, the sun seemingly catching the grasses on fire when it struck the frozen dew at daybreak. Usually, this was Kyle's favorite season but this year he couldn't seem to muster up the same enthusiasm as in the past. After missing a week of school, Kyle had had to scramble to catch up in all of his classes, not to mention his extracurricular activities, tutoring, and volunteering. But now he just didn't seem to have the same drive as before, and often wondered why he was putting in so much effort.

Thankfully, even though his appetite failed to return, he was able to cobble together enough concentration to start studying again, and he fell into a grueling routine that was even more intense than before. It's not that he was as obsessed with his grades as much as wanting to be distracted from his thoughts. He'd stay up as late as he could stand it, poring over his books and assignments, often working ahead of the class. It got to the point where Wendy noticed and started to become suspicious.

"I didn't think you cared about being valedictorian, Kyle," she said out of nowhere during physics one day near the end of October.

"What?" Kyle asked, glancing up from their latest test; a big red A+ was emblazoned across the page.

"You've just been really dedicated to your work lately," she said, eyeing his paper. She covered up her own with her arm, making it so the A wasn't visible.

"I've always been pretty dedicated, Wendy. What's your point?"

Wendy shrugged. "I don't know. You've just been a little off lately, I guess." She peered at him. "Are you okay?"

Kyle was about to answer when Mark returned to his seat in front of Kyle. He'd gone to the bathroom when the teacher had passed back their tests. Picking his up, he smirked. He turned it around for Wendy and Kyle to see; Kyle looked on indifferently but Wendy just grunted at the A+.

"Oh, look, I even earned myself a 'fantastic' at the bottom of the page." He held it up for them both to see. Wendy rolled her eyes and turned back to Kyle.

"So, are you okay or not? You look really pale today."

Kyle groped for an answer as Wendy watched him closely, and he could feel Mark watching him too, making the side of his face burn.

"I've meant to say something too, Kyle," he said. "You've been really quiet lately."

Fighting back a feeling of panic, Kyle attempted to answer offhandedly. "Oh, I've just been really tired from studying and stuff; no big deal. I just need to start going to bed earlier, I guess."

"Is that why you haven't really responded to any of my texts?" Mark asked, taking him by surprise. In the past couple of weeks Kyle had started to avoid his phone, only really using it to talk to Stan or to set his alarm for the next day. He'd noticed a few texts from Mark and a few of his other friends but he'd mostly ignored them. He talked to most of his friends at school every day so it wasn't a big deal if he didn't text them, but he'd mostly been trying to avoid being alone with Mark so it made sense that he was finally saying something.

Kyle blushed and scrambled for an answer. "Yeah, pretty much. Sorry, I've just been so preoccupied lately."

"Well, I've been meaning to tell you that I spoke to my mom about your wanting to be a doctor, and she'd love to meet with you to answer any questions you might have," he said. "I've been trying to tell you for awhile but you either don't respond to my texts or you're with Stan." Reaching up, he gingerly touched the bruise healing around one of his eyes, his expression flinty.

After returning to school from his absence, Kyle had decided to play it cagey whenever Mark brought up Stan's assault on him. Naturally, he knew that Stan and Kyle were very close so he had assumed that Kyle could shed some light on why he had attacked him so viciously and without any apparent motive. He'd looked pretty banged up for a couple weeks, with a split lip and a wicked looking black eye; his cheeks covered in bruises. Kyle remembered Stan saying that it was the least Mark deserved if what they suspected was true.

It became pretty clear very quickly that Kyle either knew nothing about Stan's motivations regarding the attack, or he just refused to talk about it, so Mark had stopped bringing it up after awhile. Subsequently, Kyle noticed that Mark gave Stan a very wide berth, even going as far as eating inside the cafeteria with Rebecca during lunchtime instead of their usual place in the courtyard. Stan and Kyle had continued to eat outside under their tree, at least as long as the weather permitted it. Every now and then, Kyle would catch Mark staring daggers at Stan, but Stan never showed that it bothered him. If anything, he never avoided Mark and made it very clear he was always up for round two, when and if Mark made the mistake of putting himself in Stan's path.

"Anyway, I wanted to know when you'd be free so I can let my mom know," he continued. "Her schedule is pretty full but she said if we just give her a date she'll make herself available."

"I didn't know your mom was a doctor," Wendy said, looking impressed.

"Yeah, and she can't stand the fact that I don't want to follow in her footsteps," Mark replied. "So, when I told her I had a friend who was interested in the medical field she almost lost her mind."

Kyle almost cringed when Mark referred to him as a friend but tried to remain calm. After all, he had his suspicions but that didn't make Mark guilty. The fact that he'd gone out of his way to talk to his mother about Kyle was really touching, and he felt genuinely grateful for that. He was also surprised to find himself actually excited at the prospect of meeting with her; as an accomplished surgeon, he was sure she had a fascinating perspective of her field. This was the first time he had felt truly excited about something in weeks.

"Wait, what about your sister?" Wendy was asking as he tuned back into the conversation.

Mark raised his eyebrows. "Becky? What about her?"

"Does she want to be a doctor?"

"Of course not," Mark said, acting like the idea was preposterous.

"Oh, she told you that?" Wendy asked. Wendy was by no means a gossip but that didn't mean she wasn't nosy.

"Not in so many words, but I'm pretty sure I would know whether or not my sister wanted to be a doctor," he said. "She tells me everything."

"Hmm," Wendy said, glancing at Kyle. He wasn't sure if she was trying to goad Mark or what, but he pretended to be very absorbed in the cover of his notebook at that very moment.

"Anyway, Kyle," Mark said, "when would you be free? I was thinking we could all have dinner together so you two could talk."

Before he could respond, Wendy interjected. "Oh, I wanted to ask you before I forgot, Kyle, but you never got back to me about my Halloween party. You'll be coming, right? With Stan, of course."

"Yes, we'll be there," Kyle replied, still turning Mark's invitation over in his head.

"You're invited too, Mark. I gave Rebecca an invitation last week."

"What? She never told me about that." Mark said, confused.

"Oh, really? I thought she told you everything," Wendy said, smiling innocently.

The bell rang then, granting Kyle a reprieve from having to answer Mark's question. As they left the room he could see Mark shooting Wendy dirty looks which she pointedly ignored, a satisfied look on her face.

****  
"So, do you have any costume ideas yet?" Stan asked, sipping his hot chocolate.

It was later that week and Stan and Kyle were strolling along downtown South Park. Snow had begun to fall that morning, frosting the sidewalks and sticking to the streets. Kyle pulled the collar of his jacket up so that his neck was better protected from the chill. They were trying to come up with ideas for Wendy's Halloween party but to no avail. Kyle looped his arm around Stan's, enjoying being out with him and feeling like things were slowly getting back to normal. They'd both agreed that, while they weren't really big on parties, it would help to go just to get their minds off of everything that had happened.

Mark had continued to hound Kyle about coming over for dinner but he kept avoiding the issue so he wouldn't have to deal with the fallout; namely, bringing up the idea to Stan. Spending any time with Mark made Kyle feel queasy, but the idea of spending an evening talking with an actual doctor and having his questions answered was incredibly tempting.

"No, not really," Kyle replied. Stan had coaxed him into getting a hot chocolate too but he really didn't want it. Instead, he held it between his gloved hands relishing its warmth. "I'm just trying to mentally prepare myself to be around so many people."

"Well, I'll be there so I'll look out for you. Besides, I think it would be really healthy for you to be around people. You've been isolating yourself so much." Stan said, putting his arm around him. Kyle felt a moment of panic when his arm settled across his shoulders but fought it back. It'd been very difficult for him to get back to a place where he wanted to be touched, and even now he didn't want to kiss or do anything too intense with Stan. Even the idea of it made his anxiety spike.

"You know Wendy invited Mark and Rebecca to the party, right?" He asked, sidestepping Stan's comment about him avoiding people.

Stan groaned. "Yeah, I know. I don't mind if Rebecca goes but there's no way I can stomach being in the same room as that son of a bitch."

"He won't come anyway if he knows you'll be there," Kyle said. "And he knows that she invited us too."

"Well, good, then I don't have to worry about it. It's hard enough seeing him at school and not putting his head through a wall." Stan grumbled, squeezing Kyle's arm a little harder.

"You always say the most romantic things," Kyle said, smiling. In his pocket, he could feel his phone vibrating and he pulled it out to see who was calling. Mark's name was flashing across the screen, creating a feeling of tension in Kyle that made him slightly nauseous. He sent the call to voicemail as casually as possible, not wanting to alarm Stan.

"Okay, I think I got it," Ben said, sliding his notebook over to Kyle for him to review.

Kyle took it and started looking over Ben's answers, relieved that that week's tutoring session was almost over. It was Friday afternoon and he was just ready for the school week to be over with. Scanning the page, he groaned slightly.

"You're still missing this one little part so your answers are all a little off," he said, circling the areas he wanted Ben to focus on. "Remember when we talked about simplification?"

"Oh, yeah. I forgot," Ben replied, looking sheepish. Kyle pushed his notebook back to him and noticed Wendy smirking at him. She was doing her own schoolwork while Sophia labored over her own page of problems, her brow furrowed with concentration. At the table next to them, Mark was working with Malcolm who looked very nervous even though Mark hadn't yelled at him since Kyle's explosion last month. Kyle had been making it a point to sit with Wendy or Butters during tutoring just to ensure that Mark couldn't find a seat close to him. He glanced at Mark but he was engrossed in explaining a formula to his charge.

"What's so amusing?" He whispered.

"I'm just imagining what kind of lame costumes you and Stan came up with for tomorrow," she replied.

"They aren't going to be lame," Kyle responded, annoyed. "They're just going to be simple."

"Simply lame?" She asked, smiling.

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You'll see them tomorrow and then you can judge for yourself."

Kyle and Stan had finally agreed to go as Mormons, with white button up shirts, black slacks, and backpacks. They were both going to part their hair and wear it neatly styled, which Kyle really wasn't looking forward to. He had no idea how he was going to tame his hair enough to do anything with it. Stan had said something about borrowing his sister's hair straightener but he still wasn't sure.

"I'm going as Frida Kahlo," Wendy volunteered.

"Why is it that doesn't surprise me?" Kyle asked. He noticed that Mark was looking over at them so he lowered his voice.

"She was a woman with a singular vision," Wendy said.

"Spare me," Kyle replied, watching Mark out of the corner of his eye. Mark had looked away but Kyle still felt nervous. He'd done everything in his power to avoid Mark since they'd hung out but it was starting to wear on him. Kyle had very little energy these days trying to keep up with his regular schedule and having to dodge Mark on top of it was especially grueling. There were a couple times where he either wanted to confront him or just throw caution to the wind and totally forget that anything ever happened, but he really couldn't make a decision. He was caught in an aggravating stasis where he didn't want to make an actual choice because he wasn't prepared to deal with the outcome of either option.

While Kyle was lost in his thoughts, Mr. Mackey entered the library to announce that the tutoring session was over. In the flurry of activity that followed, Wendy managed to remind Kyle that the party started at 7 pm and that he and Stan were free to bring whatever they wanted.

"Even beverages of the alcoholic variety," she said, conspiratorially. This little aside did not surprise Kyle; Wendy was as straight-laced as they came but she could drink most people under the table if the occasion called for it. Kyle told her he would swipe a bottle of his mom's wine, even though he felt bad that'd he'd already lifted one with Mark. He hurried out of the library, making sure to avoid Mark, and was on his way to the exit when Mr. Mackey called to him from outside of his office.

"Kyle, could you hold on for a second?" He waved him over and Kyle groaned inwardly. Mr. Mackey had a habit of pontificating and he needed every second to put more distance between himself and Mark. Reluctantly, he turned back, praying that Mark would be gone by the time Mr. Mackey finally let him go.

Surprisingly, Mr. Mackey kept the tête-à-tête brief, merely asking if Kyle was okay with tutoring an additional student instead of just one, which Kyle said would be fine. Mr. Mackey thanked him profusely and told him he'd go over the details with him next week, and Kyle tried to convey that he was in a hurry but as politely as he could.

"Well, have a great weekend, Kyle," Mr. Mackey said, waving him out the door. Kyle hoped he didn't look too strange peering out into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear, but tried to act as naturally as possible. Heaving a sigh of relief, he saw that the hall was empty and silent as a tomb, and he proceeded to hurry out of the school before anyone else tried to detain him.

"Kyle!"

He had almost made it off of school grounds when he heard a familiar voice calling his name. Turning, he saw Mark approaching him, wearing his standard black fitted jacket. For a moment, Kyle considered making a break for it but realized there was no point; he'd been caught out in the open because of goddamn clueless Mr. Mackey. He came to a stop, waiting apprehensively as Mark caught up to him.

"I'm so glad I caught you," Mark said, breathing heavily as if he'd had to run after Kyle. "I was afraid I'd miss you again; you always run off right after tutoring so I never get a chance to talk to you."

"Oh, yeah, I've just been kind of busy lately," Kyle said, lamely. He avoided making eye contact and reached a hand into his pocket to feel for his phone, just in case.

"So, what's the deal, Kyle? I've been asking you for weeks about coming to dinner to meet with my mom and you won't give me a straight answer." He looked at him, his strange eyes dark. Kyle suddenly felt like he was pinned in place, like a butterfly stuck to a board.

"I'm sorry, I've had a lot on my mind lately," he finally said, looking down at the dirty pockmarked snow under his shoes.

"Well, I can appreciate that, but it's almost like you're avoiding me," Mark said. "I'd kind of like to know why because I thought we had a good time when we hung out." He paused for a moment, like he was considering something. "I did, anyway."

A slew of - memories? hallucinations? dreams? - filled up Kyle's mind in that moment, and it was almost like he was back in Mark's room in the darkness, but instead of lying side by side he was being pinned to the mattress, unable to move. He also remembered the way Mark's lean body slid into the water when they were swimming, how he had admired his arms and his back and the thought made him blush furiously; he hated how his body responded to Mark even when his mind was terrified of him. For a split second, it was almost like he was floating suspended in that room again, but he still didn't know if it was a dream or the truth.

"I had a good time, too," he replied, shakily, still looking everywhere except in Mark's eyes. "I'm not avoiding you, I've just been so focused on schoolwork and -"

He stopped when Mark advanced on him, his handsome face contorting into that cold look he wore when he talked about his father. Kyle had to resist the urge to back up. "Cut the bullshit already. You've been using that line for the last month and I don't want to hear it again." He stared at Kyle and his face relaxed, but only slightly. "I feel like I've been really nice but I'm starting to get tired of not getting a straight answer for what I feel is a very simple question." He took another step towards Kyle.

Just then, Kyle heard a car horn, and saw Stan's car pulling up alongside them, almost like a gift from Heaven. He felt almost dizzy with relief, his heart hammering away in his chest.

"Uh, I guess my ride is here," he said, edging towards the car. Stan rolled down the window while glowering at Mark.

"Everything okay, Kyle?" He called.

"Yeah, we were just talking," Kyle replied. Mark was staring at him, his eyes narrowed. He put his hands in his pockets and smirked, shaking his head.

"We'll finish this conversation later, I guess," he said. "We wouldn't want to keep Stan waiting, would we?" Turning, he gave Stan a little wave. Stan responded by flipping him off.

As they pulled away from the curb, Stan seethed. "I can't fucking believe that guy. Was he waiting for you or what?"

"I guess," Kyle replied, staring out the window. Looking in the rear view mirror, he saw Mark still standing on the sidewalk, watching Stan's car. Everything about him seemed dark in that moment; his clothes, his hair, even the energy he gave off. Kyle watched him, a lone, slim figure standing in the cold, growing smaller until he disappeared from sight. Kyle sighed and leaned his head against the seat, suddenly feeling very tired.

Stan reached over and placed his hand on Kyle's thigh, and he had to fight the urge to push it away. For a moment it felt like he was being touched by Mark, and he was horrified at the feeling of desire that uncurled inside of him. It was brief, but it was undeniably there. He could've vomited he was so repulsed by himself in that moment. There was something about Mark that created a reaction in his body, even as his mind openly rejected him.

"Hey, are you okay? He didn't try anything, did he? I waited outside because I was worried he'd harass you or something," Stan said.

"No, I'm fine. Its just," he faltered, trying to find the right words to express his frustration. "I just thought your mind and your body were supposed to work together, you know? Sometimes I feel like mine are two separate entities that just operate independently of one another."

"Wait, what? What are you talking about?"

"Nothing, just forget it." Kyle said, disgusted by the thought of even bringing the subject up to Stan. He closed his eyes and tried to put Mark out of his mind, but he kept seeing him there, waiting, his tailored black jacket and his sleek form stark against the snow covered landscape; always watching.


	6. Chapter 6

The spider turned him round about, and went into his den,  
For well he knew the silly fly would soon be back again:  
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,  
And set his table ready to dine upon the fly.

-The Spider and the Fly: A Fable by Mary Howitt

 **I wanna love you,**  
 **But something's pulling me away from you**  
 **Jesus is my virtue,**  
 **Judas is the demon I cling to**  
 **I cling to**

 **-Lady Gaga, "Judas"**

"Stan, Kyle, you guys look great! Come in!" Wendy stepped aside to let them pass, her hair gathered into braids on top of her head and accented with fresh brightly-colored flowers. She'd drawn a very convincing unibrow with dark eyebrow pencil to complete the look.

Stan and Kyle stepped into the foyer, where orange and purple lights had been strung along the banister and fake cobwebs hung from the ceiling; bats and skeletons hung along the walls. Entering the living room, the lights had been turned down to create a spooky atmosphere, and in the gloom they could see their friends and classmates milling about, mingling and dancing. Dance music blared, the bass turned up and thumping like a giant heartbeat.

"Grab a drink," Wendy said, following them. "Everything is in the kitchen. Oh, and there's a ton of food, too." She was already starting to slur her words, even though the night was still pretty young. Stan and Kyle had gotten there a little later than they'd intended, mainly because Kyle had a hell of a time trying to straighten his hair enough to part it. He was still only semi-successful. They were both wearing white button-down shirts tucked into black pants, backpacks, and Stan had even supplied a couple of copies of the Book of Mormon for them to carry, leftover from the days when his father tried to make them convert.

As Kyle's eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he started to make out familiar faces. He recognized Bebe, who appeared to be dressed as a slutty unicorn, with a short multicolored tutu, leotard, high heels and what looked like a fake papier mache horn on her forehead. She was grinding against Clyde who was dressed as a pirate, so Kyle figured they had reconciled enough to come to the party together. Off in the corner he saw Kenny, who was dressed as the Transylvanian Transvestite; leaning against the wall and drinking a beer. He was chatting with Butters who was dressed as a fluffy penguin, a small plate of snacks clutched in one wing.

"Which of you losers is up for some beer pong?" Cartman bellowed, coming out of the kitchen and holding two red solo cups in the air. Kyle wasn't surprised to see him dressed as the Coon, a persona he never seemed to get tired of even though the rest of them had left their superhero alter egos in the past.

"Bring it, motherfucker!" Wendy yelled. Ordinarily, she wouldn't use such foul language, but she was a completely different person when she threw parties. The great thing about Wendy's parties was that her parents completely trusted her, so they always left the party unchaperoned, never thinking that their uptight, good girl daughter became a complete deviant when the booze started flowing and the lights were turned down. Kyle grinned. He was actually a big fan of this version of Wendy; it usually inspired him to loosen up as well.

"Dude, I'm going to get so wasted tonight," Stan said, grinning. "What do you want? Beer?"

"I think I'll just have a bottled water," Kyle said. "I don't think it's a good idea if I drink tonight."

"Oh, Kyle, it'll be okay. Besides, there's no way that psycho would show up knowing that we're here together," Stan said, reaching down and squeezing Kyle's hand. He felt himself relenting; maybe one little drink wouldn't hurt.

"Fine, just grab me a wine cooler," he said, smiling. "Nothing too crazy."

"I'll be right back," Stan said, heading towards the kitchen.

Kyle looked around the room, looking for someone to talk to. He always felt so awkward at parties, at least until the booze kicked in. The living room was pretty crowded, but he saw that the french doors leading out onto the back patio were open. He could see couples out there dancing, but it wasn't nearly as busy. Being careful not to run into anyone, he headed outside and into the cold air. Wendy had decorated the backyard too, orange and purple lights strung along the fence and bushes, and candles with ghostly yellow LED lights were lining the patio. Jack o lanterns with leering faces were strategically placed on the patio table and on a bench pushed up against the house, the candles inside throwing shadows.

Under the stark autumn sky, the stars scattered like dry frost, couples danced to the music that was still thumping inside. A couple of people were passing around a blunt, the smoke escaping from their mouths and dissolving into the air. The smell of it reached Kyle's nose and he shuddered, remembering the way Mark had expertly inhaled, the orange embers glowing like tiny meteorites when he flicked the joint away.

"There you are," a voice said behind him, and his heart skipped a beat. He felt a bottle being pressed into his hand, and Stan was there, holding a red solo cup like the ones Cartman had brandished above his head. "I got you an Arbor Mist. There's no way you'll even get a buzz with that."

"Oh, thanks," Kyle said, reluctantly bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a sip. Bittersweet pineapple strawberry flavored alcohol flowed into his mouth, and he almost let himself relax. He glanced at Stan and saw him take a huge drink of whatever was in his cup.

"God, I love rum and coke," Stan said, taking another drink. Reaching down, he gripped Kyle's ass, surprising him, and he gasped. "Come on, let's go say hi to everybody." Before Kyle could reply, he'd ushered him into the house; swigging the last of his drink.

Hours later, the party was still going strong, and even though midnight was looming, the music was still pounding, the drinks were still flowing, and Kyle and the rest of the party goers were caught in what felt like a group intoxication; everyone joining together in a blur of dancing and laughter. Kyle and Stan found themselves seated in the dining room, with Wendy sitting at the head of the table and Cartman, Kenny, Butters, Clyde and Craig in the other chairs. Tweek, Bebe, and Jimmy were standing around, watching as an intense game of strip poker was underway.

"Read 'em and weep!" Cartman was saying, as he threw his cards down on the table. "Full house, bitches!" He looked at Wendy and raised his eyebrows. "I think you know what happens next."

Wendy was already sitting at the table in her white lacy bra and her long red skirt, her hair starting to come out of her elaborate braids so it was hanging around her pale shoulders. She'd managed to wipe away most of her unibrow by this point. She scowled at Cartman and took a shot of Jack Daniels, grimacing as it burned down her throat.

"I know you're cheating," she slurred. She threw her cards down and crossed her arms.

"Prove it," he said, smiling.

Everyone started hooting as Wendy pushed herself away from the table and stood up. Reaching back, she unzipped her skirt and started pushing it down and over her hips, revealing a pair of lacy white panties that matched her bra. Cartman's eyes almost popped out of his skull he was staring so hard. Kicking the skirt off, she stood there in her lingerie, white thigh highs, and a pair of black high heels.

"Happy now?" She asked, her hands on her hips.

"Is that a real question?" Cartman asked, practically salivating.

Wendy sat down and crossed her legs, smiling licentiously at Cartman. Bebe patted her on the shoulder, having already been stripped down to her bra and panties too, her long blond hair spilling down her back. Butters was in his boxers and a white t-shirt, Kenny had been reduced to his fishnet stockings and underwear, Clyde was shirtless, and Stan wasn't wearing any pants; having only his button up shirt left. Kyle wasn't an active participant, so only he and Cartman were still fully dressed.

Kyle had only finished one wine cooler and had spent the rest of the evening nursing a second, so he barely felt tipsy. Stan had had quite a few rum and cokes as well as a few beers, and was feeling pretty loose. He had snaked his hand under the table and rested his hand high up on Kyle's thigh, squeezing him gently every so often. Pretty much everyone else was three sheets to the wind already, or were well on their way, and Kyle felt like he was the only semi-sober person left, lost in a frenzied bacchanalia. Kenny had even brought some pills for people to try, and had passed out molly and oxy's to anyone who was interested.

Cartman was shuffling the cards while staring at Wendy's cleavage, getting ready to start a new hand, when Stan leaned over and whispered into Kyle's ear.

"You want to go upstairs?"

Kyle flushed to feel Stan's hot breath on his earlobe, and nodded slightly. Stan stood up and grabbed his pants from the back of his chair. Kyle rose from his place as well, pushing in his chair demurely. Wendy was pouring another shot of Jack as they walked out of the kitchen, but was sober enough to remind them that her bedroom was the last door on the left once they climbed the stairs. Kyle saw Stan give her a thumbs' up over his shoulder as he followed him out of the room. The rest of the crowd in the kitchen erupted in cheers and catcalls.

"Get it, you guys!" Kenny called.

"Have fun, fags!" Cartman added.

"Shut up and deal, Eric," Wendy said.

They climbed the stairs to the second level of the house, and Stan reached back to Kyle, offering him his hand; shyly, Kyle took it. Leading the way down the hall, he opened Wendy's bedroom door and they stepped into the darkness, closing the door behind them. Stan managed to find Wendy's bedside lamp and snapped it on, illuminating the room, which was ultra feminine and neat. The lamplight cast a reddish glow across the room's interior, and Kyle glanced over to see a ruby-colored piece of fabric thrown over the lampshade.

"I wonder if Wendy was going for a red-light district vibe with that thing," Kyle said, gesturing to the lamp.

"Who knows? Wendy is an enigma," Stan replied, throwing his pants on Wendy's orderly desk. Walking over to Kyle, he reached out and cupped his face in his hands, and he kissed him softly. Kyle felt Stan's tongue licking along his bottom lip gently, and he almost sighed. Stan started backing him toward the bed, still kissing him, and reached down to start unbuttoning Kyle's shirt. Panicking, Kyle pulled away from the kiss.

"So, do you think Cartman and Wendy are going to do it?" He blurted out, asking the first question that popped into his head.

Stan stared at him, bemused. "Probably," he replied. "It wouldn't be the first time." He leaned in and tried to kiss Kyle's mouth again but he turned his face away.

"Wow, really? They've had sex before?"

"Kyle, are you nervous or something?" Stan asked.

"No," Kyle responded. "Well, yes."

"Why? It's not like we haven't done stuff like this before," Stan said, putting his hands on Kyle's waist and pulling him close. "Besides, it's been so long since I've gotten to be like this with you. I really missed it."

"Me, too. I guess my head is still messed up because of Mark," he said, resting his head on Stan's shoulder.

"I understand, and I don't want to make you do anything you're not ready for," Stan murmured, stroking Kyle's hair.

Kyle looked into Stan's face, his heart welling up with emotion and tenderness, and it was in that moment that he was pretty sure that he loved him. The thought had crossed his mind before, but now it had a new weight behind it; a solidity that made it undeniable. He wound his arms around Stan's back and held him close, and this time he initiated the kiss.

They kissed each other deeply, their hungry mouths tasting each other's lips, while their tongues slowly slid together. Kyle tasted the essence of coconut rum in Stan's mouth, its sweet mellow flavor resting on his tongue and almost making him swoon. The music was still pulsing in the living room below, making the floor vibrate, and Kyle knew that all of their friends were downstairs still steeped in revelry, but in that moment he and Stan were infinite; boundless and fused into an exquisite singularity.

Kyle let Stan back him towards the bed, where they continued to kiss.

"Let me give you a massage this time," Kyle said, licking along Stan's throat; his tongue passing over the pulse throbbing in his neck. He unbuttoned Stan's shirt and parted it, sliding his hands across his chest and relishing the feeling of how warm the skin was there. He pulled off his shirt and threw it on the floor, guiding Stan onto his stomach on the bed so he could rub his back.

The faint aroma of lilacs clung to Wendy's down comforter as Kyle straddled Stan's back, and he breathed in their scent along with Stan's cologne. Rubbing his sinewy back, Kyle could hear Stan groan and his body started to relax under Kyle's touch. Just the act of massaging Stan like this made Kyle feel aroused, and he pressed his erection into Stan's back so he'd know the effect he had on him. Continuing to stroke his back, Kyle was on the verge of telling Stan that he was ready to go a little bit further that night when he heard Stan's heavy breathing followed by a faint snore.

"Stan? You didn't fall asleep, did you?" He asked.

Stan snored in response, his breathing even and deep. Kyle couldn't believe it. Fighting the urge to shake him awake, he sighed and climbed off of him, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring into space. What the hell was he supposed to do now? In all fairness, he supposed he deserved this turn of events; after all, he'd fallen asleep under Stan's hands before. Reluctantly, he had to admit that turnabout was indeed fair play, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Sighing, he glanced at Stan again, hoping that he might wake up but he didn't so much as stir. Standing up, he quietly left the room; his arousal and subsequent frustration leaving him agitated.

After opening a few random doors that led to other bedrooms, Kyle found the bathroom and entered; taking care to shut and lock the door behind him. He splashed his face with cool water at the sink, and after appraising his reflection in the mirror, he mussed up his hair a little, not used to seeing it straight. He was untucking his shirt when he heard a knock at the door.

"I'll be right out," he called, annoyed that he was barely in there for five minutes before someone started knocking. The person knocked again, almost like they hadn't heard Kyle or were just blatantly ignoring him.

"Someone's in here," he said, irritated. "Just give me a second."

Another knock sounded at the door and now Kyle was really annoyed.

"Dude, fuck off!" He yelled. Leaning on the sink, he looked down and watched the water swirling around the drain and disappearing; little gurgles chuckled far away in the pipes. He waited, anticipating another knock but it didn't come. Sighing, he finished up his business and went to open the door, his hand resting lightly on the doorknob. Apprehension rose within him, keeping him from leaving the bathroom. Waving it away, he turned the knob slowly and pushed the door open, fully expecting a person to be waiting in the hallway. Relief flooded through him when he saw that there wasn't a person in sight.

I really need to relax, he thought, feeling stupid. He knew that there were other people upstairs besides him and Stan. When he'd gone hunting for the bathroom he had opened multiple doors revealing trysting couples, so it stood to reason that some random inebriated person had knocked on the door. A pervasive sense of dread continued to gnaw at him though. He briefly looked in on Stan, who was still snoozing peacefully on Wendy's bed; having rolled onto his side while clutching a pillow to his chest. Smiling, Kyle closed the door softly. Heading downstairs, he mentally prepared himself for the scene he was walking into; he likened it to the aftermath of a battle, but the casualties had been laid out by booze and debauchery.

He wasn't disappointed. In the haze of smoke and muted lighting he could see people draped over couches and chairs, totally faded by alcohol and drugs and most likely fatigue; he noted that it was already after midnight but Wendy's parties typically lasted into the early morning hours. Thank god her parents never stuck around to see what her "quiet get-togethers" actually entailed. The poker game in the dining room had broken up for the most part, but Wendy and Cartman were still at the table; Wendy still in a state of undress but now she was sitting on Cartman's lap, straddling him. They were kissing so intensely that it looked like they were getting ready to digest each other.

Kyle wandered into the kitchen to grab another wine cooler where he found Kenny and Butters. Kenny was sitting on the counter with Butters standing between his legs, apparently deeply engrossed in conversation with one another. Butters' eyes were droopy and Kenny was running a hand through his hair, his other arm wrapped around Butters' waist. They looked up briefly when Kyle entered the room.

"Don't let me bother you," he said. "I'm just grabbing another drink."

"I could use another drink," Butters said, looking up at Kenny.

"I really don't think you should have anymore alcohol, babe," Kenny replied. "Not after you took that oxy. Aren't you feeling it yet?"

"I feel a little fuzzy, I guess."

"Oh, yeah. It's kicking in," Kenny smiled, pulling him closer.

Kyle grabbed a fuzzy navel and scooted out of the kitchen, not wanting to intrude on what was clearly a private moment. Butters and Kenny had been entertaining one another ever since Freshman year, and while they never explicitly stated that they were together, everyone was aware of their feelings for each other. Kenny batted for both teams, so he had fucked around with boys and girls alike, but he always circled back around to Butters at the end of the day, who was always glad to receive him.

He passed through the living room, stepping over classmates sprawled hither and yon, and walked out onto the patio, which was empty. The night sky had reached its zenith in terms of darkness, having acquired that deep midnight violet that's so thick it almost seemed to have a weight to it. The stars were lights tossed on the tides of infinity, straining through the darkness and still managing to reach Kyle, who was feeling fragile and small as he walked across Wendy's expansive back lawn. Sipping his fuzzy navel, he admired the last remaining Autumn flowers struggling against the cold and silvered by the glacial light of the moon.

Night breezes caressed his face and he closed his eyes, taking in the enormity of being alone under such a dramatic starscape. Usually he didn't have a problem with being by himself, but after the month he'd had he hungered for other people sometimes; not wanting to go back to the mindset he'd had during those late night binges and solitary baths. He thought of Stan upstairs in Wendy's room and desire bloomed inside of him again, and without provocation he thought of Mark and his elegant hands; the way they could potentially grab him and -

He shook his head. How sick was he that he could even have thoughts like that? Maybe he was going crazy. He pulled his phone and headphones out of his pocket, needing to listen to music so he could distract himself from these awful, disconcerting thoughts. Laying back in the snow-tinged grass, stretched out under the sky, he listened to his music and tried to keep his thoughts clean and normal; his eyes closed.

"I feel like we've acted out this exact situation before," a voice said, cutting through the music and his thoughts respectively. Startled, Kyle opened his eyes and sat up, looking around.

"Hey," Mark said. He was smoking a cigarette, the smoke curling around his face when he exhaled, and as usual, he was dressed in his long black coat and dark slacks. The coat was open at the throat, and Kyle saw a glimpse of a loosened tie around his neck. Standing up quickly, Kyle nervously brushed grass and snow from his clothes.

"You didn't have to get up, Kyle. What, were you meditating or something out here?" Mark asked, taking another drag on his cigarette. "I'm sorry if I broke your concentration."

"No, I was just thinking," Kyle responded. Puzzled, he stared at Mark, who continued to nonchalantly smoke his cigarette. "I didn't think you'd be coming tonight," he finally said.

Mark shrugged. "Neither did I, but Becky held my feet to the fire." He finished the cigarette and flicked it away where it landed on the snow, sizzling faintly. Kyle wanted to tell him not to throw crap on Wendy's lawn but he kept the thought to himself.

"Oh, so she forced your hand?" He asked, still eyeing the cigarette butt. Maybe he could pick it up when Mark wasn't paying attention.

"Yeah, she can be pretty persuasive." Smirking, he looked up at the sky. "It's no big deal; I owed her one anyway. Man, I can see why you're out here instead of in there with all of them. Hey, isn't that Pegasus? What is that one part called? The Great Square? Although, I'm pretty sure that group of stars is an asterism and not an actual constellation, right?"

Kyle shook his head. "I'm not sure."

"I'm so rusty when it comes to astronomy but that doesn't stop me from pretending to know what I'm talking about," Mark said, still gazing up at the sky. "God, I just want to fall into it, you know? Get lost and leave all of this mundane bullshit behind."

Kyle smiled, despite himself. He remembered the night he hung out with Mark and had gotten high; how he'd felt like if he let go of his chair he'd float away into the sky. He also recalled the telescope sitting out on Mark's balcony, and wondered whether or not he spent a lot of time out there by himself, studying the galaxy.

"One of my favorites has to be the teapot," Mark said. "It's a part of Sagittarius, but it's more of a summer thing. One of my favorite things to do is get super fucking high and just look at the stars, you know?"

"I can't say that I've ever done that," Kyle admitted.

"We need to do that together sometime," Mark said, and he glanced at Kyle. "I even promise not to bring up religion."

"What?"

"I can't look at the stars without thinking about God, which I'm sure isn't unique at all." He paused. "If anything, it's probably incredibly cliche, which I can live with. I just need to keep reminding myself that it's not a crime to have the same thoughts as other people. I mean, we're all in this together, aren't we?"

"Sometimes I'm not so sure." Kyle crossed his arms, trying to fight the chill working its way under his clothes. "You guys are so late. The party started hours ago."

"I guess we're fashionably late then," Mark shrugged. "Besides, we showed up awhile ago. I think it was right after you went upstairs with Stan."

Kyle froze. "Oh?"

"Yeah, we walked in and saw that crazy strip poker game going on," he rolled his eyes. "I don't remember who mentioned it, but they said something about you guys being upstairs in Wendy's room." Reaching into his pocket, Mark pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Want one?" He asked, holding it out to Kyle who quickly declined.

He tamped the pack against his palm and then flipped it open. Drawing out a cigarette, he put the pack back in his pocket. Flipping open a silver zippo, he lit the cigarette and took a long pull, the smoke escaping between his lips. "You know, I have a lot of reasons to hate my father but I gotta say," he took another drag and exhaled slowly, "I just can't hate on him for getting me hooked on this."

"Your father encouraged you to smoke?" Kyle asked, incredulous.

"More or less. He always seemed like he was in a better mood when he was smoking, so I guess I just associated it with being happy." He thought a moment. "You and Stan weren't upstairs for very long."

"I guess not," Kyle said, thrown by Mark's habit of abruptly changing the subject. "It's not like I was watching the clock the whole time."

"Well, yeah, he'd have to be pretty shitty in bed if you were counting the minutes," Mark laughed.

Kyle blushed. "He's not shitty. I mean, not that I would know, but-"

"Not that you would know? So what were you guys doing up there? Your taxes?"

"No, we were..." Kyle trailed off, annoyed. "It's really none of your business anyway."

"Maybe not, but I'm pretty sure I could teach Stan a few things," Mark replied.

"About sex?" Kyle asked, stumbling over the word like it was the first time he'd ever said it out loud.

"No, about you."

Kyle's heart started pounding in his chest, so much that he started to feel lightheaded. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do." Mark said, breathing out a long stream of smoke. "What are you drinking anyway?"

Kyle looked dumbly at the drink he'd perched in the snow. "It's a fuzzy navel," he said, faintly. Feeling numb, he reached down to pick it up. Mark came over to him and he almost cringed.

"May I?" He asked.

Kyle nodded, and Mark took the bottle from his hands. He took a sip. "Oh, I like that. You have good taste." Bringing the bottle to his lips again, he polished off the whole thing. Feeling dizzy, Kyle took the bottle from him and walked over to the cigarette butt Mark had thrown on the snow. He bent down to pick it up, and deposited it in the now empty bottle. Mark finished his current cigarette and placed it in the bottle, too.

"I have to be honest, I was pretty sure this party was going to blow but I'm actually pleasantly surprised," he said.

Kyle couldn't think of anything to say.

"I mean, I had to deal with that idiot Clyde when we first got here, but he's basically harmless," he remarked. "As long as he stays away from Becky I don't give a shit what he does. And Stan was occupied so we avoided another ugly scene. Speaking of which," he paused, shooting a sideways look at Kyle, "what was the deal with all of that?"

"I have no idea."

"Okay, so you're fucking this guy but you can't tell me why he attacked me? That makes a lot of sense."

Kyle looked at him, horrified. "Don't be vulgar."

"Relax, Kyle. You guys are fucking and everyone knows it. What's the big deal? It's nothing to be ashamed of. Although, it makes me wonder why you told me you guys were just friends."

"Jesus Christ, we are not fucking!"

"Well, that sucks. Stan doesn't know what he's missing."

"You are fucking demented!" Kyle shouted, wanting to lob the bottle in his hand straight at Mark's face.

"Kyle, you seriously need to relax. You know, if you were getting laid more often you wouldn't be so uptight," Mark said, laughing.

"That's it, this conversation is over," Kyle said, turning around and starting to walk back towards Wendy's house.

"Kyle, lighten up," Mark called. "You need to start being honest with yourself about what you want."

"I'm very aware of what I want," Kyle said, turning back to face him. "For example, I want you to shut the hell up."

"That's not all you want from me," Mark said. "Not that you'd ever admit that. Being honest is not one of your strengths, clearly."

"You aren't making any sense right now."

"Look, just quit playing dumb and tell me what you said to Stan that made him slam me into my locker. I'd have to be brain-dead not to realize you had something to do with it. Quit insulting my intelligence here, okay?" Mark was looking at him with plain exasperation on his face now.

Kyle wondered if he should just come clean and be done with it. The act of carrying around this burden of having suspicions but no answers was wearing him down every day, and in that moment the prospect of having everything out in the open seemed like paradise. A quick snatch of a dream flitted through his head then, being on a throne in royal splendor, with Mark kneeling in front of him and placing shoes on his feet; maybe in the dream Mark had been at his mercy instead of the other way around. The idea appealed to Kyle, who was tired of being the one always capitulating.

At the same time, it felt like Kyle was existing in an acute dichotomy. One part of him wanted to have some power, but the other part almost wanted to be conquered; like the idea of being dominated or having his choices taken away was incredibly attractive. As always, he was torn, and he existed in a state of agonizing indecision. He'd never been so confused about his own mind and motivations, not since this all started; not since his ongoing breakdown began, and small pieces of himself started to crumble or warp completely.

Glancing at Mark, he shrugged. "Yeah, okay, maybe I talked to him about you."

"Okay, and?"

"And I didn't tell him to go and beat the crap out of you," Kyle said. "He did that on his own. I wasn't thrilled to hear that he'd done that, but honestly, I couldn't blame him."

"Why?" Mark's voice was starting to develop an edge.

Kyle hesitated, wanting to choose his next words very carefully. "Well, after we hung out, a couple of things just didn't make sense, I guess, and Stan was concerned."

"He was concerned? What the hell are you talking about?" The edge had morphed into outright irritation. "Get to the point."

"Fine! If you just want me to fucking say it, I will! You drugged me, Mark. You drugged me and then you-" His voice broke and he couldn't say the word; he just couldn't make himself. That word made him want to vomit.

Silence descended on them as Kyle's words hung in the air, and he was overwhelmed with a sense of relief but a brand new anxiety was close on its heels.

"Well," Mark finally said, and he cleared his throat,"that's an interesting theory, I guess. It's certainly disturbing, I'll give you that."

"It isn't a theory," Kyle said, even though he knew that it was; he really didn't have proof on his side.

"I'm pretty sure it is, though. I can safely say that I'm attracted to you, Kyle, but what you're suggesting," he stopped and made a slight grimace, "that just isn't one of my proclivities." He wiped his mouth and sighed. "Where would you even get that idea anyway?"

"The bruises, and I couldn't remember anything from that night. My mind was a complete blank, except for a couple of details. Details that I couldn't explain at all." Kyle responded, his voice weak.

"Dude, we drank a ton of alcohol and you smoked, what did you expect?" Mark asked. "As for the bruises, I told you how they got there. Now I know why they say you shouldn't wake up a sleepwalker." He ran his hands through his hair. "I don't know what you want right now. I mean, I can't stand here and tell you I did something I just didn't do."

Kyle started to say something but the words died in his mouth. Now he just felt completely lost and in the dark.

"I can't fault Stan for wanting to protect you or avenge you or whatever, but this is not something you just accuse someone of without proof. What if you'd gone to the police? My entire life could've been destroyed, Kyle."

He walked over to Kyle but Kyle couldn't bear to look in his face. Mark grabbed his shoulders and shook him, while Kyle had to fight back the urge to cry. "Aren't you even going to say anything?" He yelled.

"Of course you're going to deny everything, Mark. Why would you admit to this if you didn't have to?" A sob escaped his mouth and he was filled with shame at the sound. "I mean, the only thing you can do for me is tell me the truth so I can try to get on with my life in one way or another."

"It's not my fault that you're a repressed, neurotic mess, Kyle," Mark seethed. "Who knows? Maybe on some insane subconscious level you wanted this to be true."

Kyle pulled away from Mark and started to cry, the hot tears falling down his face and scalding his skin. All of the pressure inside of him seemed to culminate in that moment, and it was more than he could stand. Through his hysteria, he felt a warm pressure on his shoulder, and he turned his head to see Mark standing there.

"I'm sorry," he said, his hand resting on Kyle's shoulder. "I'm not trying to hurt you, but you have to admit this is a lot for anyone to digest at once. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the idea that you thought I was even capable of that." He gripped Kyle's flesh like it was keeping him tethered to the earth. Kyle flinched but didn't pull away.

"I guess I'm just crazy," Kyle said. "I feel crazy, anyway. I always feel like I'm going to completely fall apart; at any moment."

"You're just wound really tightly, Kyle. Anyone who knows you can see that. Just let go, it's okay. You can give into the things you want and still be a good person. You know that, right?"

"No, I don't," Kyle said, as the tears continued to drip down his face.

"Then I'll show you," Mark replied, and he turned Kyle towards him. Resting his hands on Kyle's face, he gently pulled him toward him and kissed him. His hands slid upwards into Kyle's hair, where they became tangled in the red waves.

For a moment, Kyle resisted, but he found himself sinking into the kiss like a person would sink into a warm bath; he was completely and utterly intoxicated by the taste of Mark, the feeling of Mark, the very presence of him. His mind became murky as seduction flooded him, and he surrendered completely. Kyle never could have guessed that confronting Mark would've turned out this way; he knew it was going to be dramatic and probably more than he could handle, and it was, but now he could barely believe that he was kissing Mark, and his tongue was sliding inside of his mouth.

"You taste just the way I thought you would," Mark whispered against his mouth when they broke away from each other.

Kyle reached up and placed his hands on Mark's chest, pushing him away. "I can't do this," he said. "It's wrong."

Mark pulled him close again, looking down into his face. "Yeah, Stan probably wouldn't like seeing you with me, would he?" He leaned down and kissed Kyle again, but he was more aggressive this time. He pressed his body against Kyle's, and he was much stronger than he'd anticipated.

"No, stop," Kyle said, pulling away. "You're right, Stan wouldn't like this, and neither do I."

"Well, we both know that's a lie," Mark responded.

"Aren't you guys cold out here?"

Kyle's heart almost stopped beating for a moment, terrified that Stan or one of his friends had caught him with Mark. It was only Rebecca, dressed like a Playboy bunny and holding a glass of wine.

Mark stepped away from Kyle slowly, and smiled at his sister, who took a drink and shivered in the night air. Her brown curly hair was down and wild, flowing past her shoulders and to the middle of her back. A pair of satin bunny ears were nestled on her head, and they matched the turquoise satin leotard she wore. The look was completed with a bow tie, dark stockings, and turquoise high heels.

"I told you you'd be cold in that getup," Mark said. "But you always want to do things your own way." He glanced at Kyle with a look that seemed to say, "sisters, right? what can you do?" Kyle could only shrug and stay silent, feeling horrible about being caught in flagrante delicto with Mark of all people. Stan was going to be heartbroken.

"I've been wanting to wear this costume for forever, Mark." Rebecca said, spreading her arms and gesturing at herself. "Christ, I bought it, I might as well wear it, right?" She looked at Kyle, her eyes narrowing like she didn't quite know what to make of him.

"You're Kyle, right?" She asked, draining the last of the wine from her glass.

"Becky, I'm sure you remember him," Mark said. "You two played doctor together."

Her eyes lit up with recognition and she laughed. "Yes, of course! I guess I should be thanking you for helping me experience my sexual awakening, right?"

Kyle could only look at Mark helplessly, practically begging him to intervene. Mark nodded at him and then gazed at his sister, looking her over like he often seemed to do with Kyle; appraising the subject and assessing its value.

Rebecca had grown into her figure dramatically, Kyle had to admit. Her proportions were almost exaggerated, and if Kyle had seen a drawing of her he would've assumed that the artist took liberty with her measurements. She resembled Mark of course, but in the places that he was lanky and angular, she was soft and full. If her curves were a road, it would be particularly treacherous.

"Give me one of your cigarettes, Mark. It's not like I have pockets in this outfit to carry my own," She said, reaching out a hand to him, a white cuff circling her wrist.

"I thought you were trying to quit," he said, digging in his pocket and handing the pack over to her.

"I'll quit when you do," she replied, pulling one out and putting it between her lips, which were stained a bright ruby red. She looked at Mark expectantly. Groaning, he pulled out his zippo and lit the cigarette for her. Inhaling deeply, she sighed a little, her impressive bosom rising and falling.

"Well, it's not a Virginia Slim but it'll have to do," she said, closing her eyes with satisfaction. Opening them, she peered at her brother. "What are you two doing out here anyway?"

"We're just smoothing out a little misunderstanding, aren't we, Kyle?" He looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Um, yeah. That's it," Kyle said.

"I only got a chance to talk to Wendy for a second," Rebecca said, taking another drag on the cigarette. "She came up for air long enough to come into the kitchen to get a beer for Cartman, and then she was gone."

"That's too bad," Mark said. "She can seriously do much better than Cartman."

"Tell me about it," she said, looking disgusted. "I guess he has this degenerate sex appeal to him, but the thought of actually letting him..." She shook her head. "I can't even finish that thought, it's too gross."

"Thank goodness you have better taste than that," Mark said.

"I don't have a problem slumming on occasion, mind you," she said, "but even I have to draw the line somewhere."

"Maybe you should enlighten Wendy to your obvious superiority," Mark commented, distractedly. "You can help her reclaim her dignity."

"No, I think she gets off on how taboo the whole thing is," she said, shaking her head. "Which I can completely relate to, but still."

"You guys sure are casual about this subject," Kyle interjected. "Being siblings and all."

"Why wouldn't we be?" Rebecca asked, looking at Mark.

"Don't mind him. He's repressed," Mark replied, saying the word like it was an incurable disease.

"Oh, you poor baby," Rebecca replied, looking at Kyle with pity. Kyle flushed. "I'm sure if anyone can help him, you can, Mark."

"I don't need anyone's help, I'm just fine," Kyle blurted out, tired of feeling like they were talking about him like he wasn't there.

"That remains to be seen," Rebecca said, finishing the cigarette and stubbing it out on the bottom of her high heel. "I don't know about you guys, but it's cold as a witch's teat out here. I'm going inside." She started picking her way through the snowy grass heading towards the house, a fluffy bunny tail clinging to her firm backside.

"Good idea," Kyle said, relieved to have a means of escape from what had become a very bizarre situation. He started to follow her but Mark grabbed his arm, holding him back.

"I'm pretty sure we still have a few things to talk about," he said, pulling him in close. Kyle strained to get away but Mark held him tightly until he finally gave in and relaxed against him.

"I'm really not in the mood for an involved discussion," Kyle said. "This night has been exhausting." He glanced at Mark's face. "And very confusing," he added.

Mark slid his hands down Kyle's sides until they were resting on his waist, he looked at him and his eyes were unreadable. "You feel like you're nothing but bones, Kyle." He said offhandedly. "You were thin before but now you're downright skinny."

Kyle tried shifting away but Mark held him fast. Frustrated, he gave him a dirty look. "I kind of lose my appetite when I think that I've been sexually assaulted," he said bitterly.

"I can see how someone might respond that way to trauma," he said. "However, as I've already told you, nothing happened. Move on, Kyle."

"Oh, yeah, it's just that simple," Kyle replied, rolling his eyes.

"It can if you want it to be," Mark said simply. "Well, this explains why you've been acting like a psycho and avoiding me, at any rate. So, when are you coming over to join a Cotswald family dinner?" His eyes brightened as the question left his lips.

Kyle looked at him in amazement. How could he be so cavalier about all of this? Not only had he been accused of date rape, but he'd also kissed Kyle when he knew that he was with Stan, and he just didn't seem to care. He was bizarrely unflappable and it was deeply unnerving. The only time he'd really shown any kind of reaction was when he considered the fact that Kyle could've gone to the police.

Peeling himself out of Mark's grip, Kyle shook his head, both at the notion of coming over to Mark's house for dinner, but also at how this whole exchange had unfolded. A couple years of therapy probably couldn't even help to put all of this in perspective; dealing with Mark sometimes was like taking a boat ride through the Twilight Zone. "There isn't going to be any family dinner, Mark. It's crazy that you'd even think that was a possibility."

"Wait, how is that crazy? You're the one that created a whole incident in your head and then accused me without any kind of proof. I'm willing to let bygones be bygones because we clearly have some kind of connection here, but that's me being crazy?" He pinched the bridge of his nose like he was deeply confused. "I'm being really understanding about all of this, hell, we just fucking made out, but I'm crazy? Okay. That's sound and inarguable logic, Kyle. You've got me."

"I'll admit that I jumped the gun if you're telling me the truth, but that doesn't mean I'm just going to blindly accept what you're telling me right now." Kyle said. "You could still be lying. Just because we kissed doesn't mean anything has changed or that I'll just magically believe everything you say."

"Even though you clearly liked kissing me? That seriously didn't change your mindset at all?"

"No," Kyle stammered. He collected himself. "No, it doesn't. Besides, I'm with Stan. He's the person I want. Not you."

"That's pretty hard to believe when you kissed me with very little persuasion. You don't have to be with someone just because you think you're supposed to be. What are you, a heroine in a romance novel or something? You don't need to act out this tragic love story."

"You're impossible. Look, I told you where I stand, take it or leave it." Kyle replied, tiredly. He was already walking away when he heard Mark calling to him.

"How is Stan going to feel about all of this? Can he take it or leave it, too?"

Kyle paused. "Is that a threat?" He asked, not bothering to turn around.

"Not at all. I'm just genuinely curious."

"I'm sure you are. You don't need to worry about Stan's reactions to anything because I've already made it pretty clear that this is none of your business."

He heard Mark start laughing. "Whatever you say, man."

Stan was pretty upset when he'd fully woken up the next morning and realized that he'd slept through an opportunity to potentially get laid.

"I knew I shouldn't have had so much to drink," he groaned, pressing his pillow over his face. Kyle watched him complain with a mild expression; this was going to be the least of his concerns after he disclosed that he had kissed Mark in a moment of sheer idiocy.

Kyle had slept over at Stan's house following the party, and they'd stumbled home a little after 3 am when he'd finally been able to rouse Stan from Wendy's bed. The party was still going reasonably strong when they left, but after Kyle's run-in with Mark he was ready to leave. On their way out, he had seen Mark smirking and watching him, drinking a smirnoff ice and talking with Rebecca and a few other people. Rebecca had waved to him like she didn't have a care in the world, and Kyle supposed in that moment she didn't.

Sighing, he considered the early morning sunshine streaming through Stan's window while agonizing over how he was going to destroy his heart. He couldn't just blurt out this sort of information wantonly, no, he needed to have a plan, right? But how was he supposed to plan for a situation he'd never in a million years thought he'd be in?

Checking his phone, Kyle noticed a text from Mark and his heart started pounding:

The party stopped being interesting as soon as you left.

Scowling, he deleted the text, disgusted with Mark but even more disgusted with himself. What the fuck was he thinking? For all he knew, he had made out with his own assailant; he couldn't even begin to fathom how sick that was. There was a chance that Mark was telling the truth, of course, but how could he really know for sure? The flavor of cigarettes mixed with what had to be Listerine came back to him, and it was almost like he was kissing Mark again; and there, dark and concerning was the faint uprising of desire.

He glanced over at Stan who was still laying on his bed with his pillow over his face. He'd taken off his shirt but he'd slept in his slacks, so Kyle could see his bare chest rising and falling softly with his breaths. He went and sat next to him on the edge of the bed, and traced a finger along his stomach. Stan started a little and removed the pillow.

"I feel like I've been hit by a train," he said, peering up at him.

"That doesn't surprise me. I lost track of how many rum and cokes you had," Kyle replied.

"Am I crazy or did I see Mark and his sister in Wendy's living room when we left last night?"

"Yeah, they showed up after you'd already fallen asleep," Kyle said, looking away.

Stan groaned. "My head is fucking pounding." He said, covering his face with his hands.

"I'll get you something to drink," Kyle said, standing up. "Coffee or juice?"

"Water," he paused. "And coffee too, I guess."

"I really hope I don't run into your parents."

"They're never up before 11 on a Sunday, you should be fine."

I highly doubt that, Kyle thought, leaving the room.

Half an hour later, Stan was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and sipping a cup of coffee. He'd taken some Excedrin and Kyle recalled the morning he'd woken up in Mark's bed, his head pounding. He'd taken Excedrin then too, and while it had taken the edge off of his hangover it hadn't provided any clarity. Watching Stan drink his coffee, Kyle's stomach was tied in knots, and the words he needed to find that could possibly save them just wouldn't come.

Putting his coffee cup down, Stan looked at Kyle, a frown on his face. His blue eyes were red rimmed, and Kyle thought they looked a little sad.

"I'm sorry I acted like a dumb ass and drank too much last night," he said. "I really hope Mark didn't try anything weird."

Kyle let out a trembling breath and felt his chest tightening up in the way it always did when he was preparing to do something he really didn't want to do. It happened when he was going to give a speech or when he had to have blood drawn, and now it was happening as he was getting ready to reveal to Stan what a piece of garbage he was. Stan's face looked so open and untarnished in that moment, and that just made the moment even harder to bear.

"Well, uh, Mark and I did end up talking last night," he finally managed to say.

Stan's eyebrows knitted together. "You did?"

"Yeah, and, well, I broke down and told him why you beat the shit out of him." He looked down at his hands; trembling lightly. Clasping them together, he could still feel them shaking.

"What did he say?" Stan asked. He didn't look angry yet, but he did look very alert, like his muscles were already beginning to tense up.

Kyle stood up and started pacing. "I mean, I laid it all on the line. I told him what we suspected, about him drugging me and whatever, and of course he denied everything."

"Naturally."

"And, I don't know, Stan. When he stood there and basically told me I was a crazy fool for even mentioning the idea to him, I just felt like I was going to fall apart right there. Like, I had this crazy feeling in my head, and my chest felt like it was starting to fill up with water, like I was drowning, you know?"

Stan stood up and walked over, deliberately standing in Kyle's path so he couldn't keep walking the floor. Putting his hands gently on Kyle's shoulders, he looked into his face. "Just tell me what happened."

Kyle bit his lip and looked away, tears already burning at his eyes and he hated them. They had been his undoing with Mark last night; had shown how weak and pathetic he really was. He had always thought of tears as kind of a cleansing force, like fire scorching a field and making it healthier, but these tears just split him wide open and made him vulnerable to everything.

"Stan, Mark kissed me, and I didn't stop him. I-I kissed him back."

Slowly, Stan let go of Kyle's shoulders and backed away, his eyes wide and blank, like they weren't even capable of sight. Blinking rapidly, he sniffed a little, and brought his hand up to his face to cover his mouth. His pupils dilated as his eyes shifted to focus on Kyle, and he shook his head.

"You're not serious," he said.

"I wish it hadn't happened, and I don't know why I let it happen," Kyle said, feeling like he was crumbling inside. He knew Stan was going to be completely blindsided by this turn of events, but he never could've imagined that awful, dead look on his face; like someone had pulled a string inside of him and made all the lights turn off. He reminded Kyle of his house when nobody was there; sitting lonely and vacant.

Stan went and sat on the bed heavily, staring down at his hands like they didn't belong to him anymore. "Do you remember when we watched The Graduate?" He suddenly asked.

"Yes, we watched it back when we first started high school," Kyle replied, confused.

"Remember how at the end of the movie, after the guy rescued the girl from the church and getting married to someone she didn't love," he licked his lips, "remember how they rode away in that bus and at first they looked so happy, but then you could tell reality was setting in and their faces changed and they just looked completely lost like, god, where do we go from here?"

"I think so, yes," Kyle said.

"Well, that's kind of where I am right now, I guess. Where the fuck do we go from here, Kyle?"

"I don't think it's even fair for me to have a say in what happens next," Kyle said. "I hurt you. My bad decisions brought us to this point so why should I get to decide where we're going?"

Stan sniffed and dropped his head like it was too heavy to keep holding up. "So, now everything is in my lap, huh? You go out and do what you did, and now you get to step back and let me take the reins like you're doing me some kind of favor?" Looking up, he glared at Kyle. "I didn't create this situation, you did. I don't know what it is about Mark but whenever you're around him you do these impulsive, out of character things and I just don't understand why."

"Neither do I, honestly," Kyle said, softly. "I guess he's an outlet or something. It's stupid but he seems to tap into a part of me that's very hard to control, something uninhibited and wild and he just knows how to manipulate it, and me."

"Do you like that he's able to do that to you, Kyle?" Stan asked. "I mean, you have to like it at least a little or else you wouldn't keep letting him do whatever he wants."

"I don't like that out of control feeling, Stan, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that sometimes I feel like I'm attracted to him. Or at least I'm attracted to whatever makes him able to twist me around. I'm really not sure."

"Well, I'm as in the dark about all of this as you are," Stan said, pushing himself onto the bed and up against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest. "In fact, out of every person in this scenario I'm the one who's in the dark the most. I just get to stand by and deal with the fallout of everything that happens between you two, and I don't know how much more I can take."

Kyle's stomach lurched when he heard him say that, not that he could blame him.

"You're attracted to that guy? Really?" Stan looked at him like he needed to be committed. "Just last month you were complaining about him kicking your ass, and then you actually hung out with him and we think he might have done something to you. Something completely awful, by the way," he emphasized, "and now you're attracted to him?" Shaking his head, he ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. "What the fuck is even happening right now? Have you lost your goddamn mind, Kyle?"

"I didn't say it made any sense," Kyle replied. "And, yes, I probably have; at least, that's how it feels these days. I hate myself for feeling this way. I feel like I should be able to control this kind of thing, but my body just reacts and seems to ignore rational thought. This isn't something I'm proud of, Stan."

"What about us, though? Do you even want to be with me?" Stan asked, his face stricken.

"Of course I do! I just want things to stop being confusing and complicated," Kyle said. "I really don't know what I was expecting, though. This kind of stuff is always complicated, right?"

Stan shrugged. "It is when you let people get in your head and start messing with your thoughts. God, I just hope I'm not doing the same thing and I don't even realize it."

"I can safely say that you and Mark are completely different in that regard," Kyle replied.

"Maybe that's part of the problem, though. That guy clearly has something about him that you're interested in, or else we wouldn't even be having this conversation."

Kyle looked at him and saw the earnestness that seemed to define Stan's personality plain on his face; the simple drive to do the right thing and the honesty of his feelings for him. There was a pureness to Stan that called to mind wintertime and clear, distilled vodka; there was no pretense there that Kyle could see. Mark, on the other hand, represented the unknown; late nights lost in a fog of inebriation and wine bottles clinking under your feet as you crawled out of a rumpled mess of a bed at noon; your body sticky with sweat and maybe even blood.

"It's purely carnal," Kyle said. "I guess. It's not like I have the same feelings for him that I have for you. Being with you makes me happy, being with him just makes me feel confused and weirdly excited. I don't know. The whole thing is ridiculous." He looked at Stan, who was still hugging his knees to his chest and looking dazed. "I'm so sorry, Stan. I don't know what I can even do to make things okay again."

"Neither do I," Stan replied, softly, and Kyle's heart tripped over itself in a way that left him breathless.

"Do you want me to leave?" He asked.

"No, I don't."

Surprised, Kyle looked at him. Stan lay down on his bed and opened his arms to him. "Come here," he said. "I don't really feel like talking anymore. I just want to hold you for awhile and think, if that's okay."

Wordlessly, Kyle went to him and allowed himself to be curled into Stan's arms, taken aback by the warmth he still felt there, like it would all disappear after his confession. Pressing his face to Stan's t-shirt, he smelled fabric softener and something else, something he couldn't really pinpoint, but it put him completely at ease. He started to cry because he couldn't help it, and Stan ran his fingers through his hair and tried to comfort him.

"I don't deserve this," Kyle murmured.

"I'll be the judge of that," Stan replied.

They passed the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon this way; with vibrant autumn sunlight pouring through the windows and the sounds of Stan's family coming to life somewhere in the rest of the house. In the quiet that followed Stan tried to come to terms with the revelations he'd been thrust into, and Kyle tried to sort out his feelings as well as his guilt. They were together but separate in that moment, waiting for their story to continue; whether it be with a fresh chapter or an unsatisfying conclusion. Only time would tell.


	7. Chapter 7

**But I know a place where we can go**  
 **That's still untouched by man**  
 **We'll sit and watch the clouds roll by**  
 **And the tall grass wave in the wind**

 **You can lay your head back on the ground**  
 **And let your hair fall all around me**  
 **Offer up your best defense**  
 **But this is the end  
This is the end of the innocence**

 **-Don Henley, End of the Innocence**

 **I've got you under my skin.**  
 **I've got you deep in the heart of me.**  
 **So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me.**  
 **I've got you under my skin.**  
 **I'd tried so not to give in.**  
 **I said to myself, this affair never will go so well.**  
 **But why should I try to resist when, baby, I know so well**  
 **I've got you under my skin?**

-Cole Porter, I've Got you Under my Skin (sung by Peggy Lee)

"It was so nice that your parents let you stop by for Thanksgiving, Kyle," Mrs. Marsh said as she placed a fresh pumpkin pie on the counter, its fragrance mixing with the cinnamon candles burning in the center of the table. They culminated to create a smell that Kyle would always associate with family and a feeling of belonging. He smiled as Stan's mother offered him a generous piece.

"Thank you, Mrs. Marsh," he said, taking the container of Cool Whip that she passed along as well.

"Sharon? Hey, Sharon? Can you bring me another drink? I don't want to miss any of the halftime show," Randy called from the living room. Mrs. Marsh rolled her eyes and went to the fridge to grab a beer. She smiled at Stan and Kyle as she left the kitchen.

"Enjoy your pie, boys."

"Thanks, mom," Stan called, taking a bite. Kyle resisted the urge to wipe Cool Whip off of his mouth.

"This is really good," he said.

"Oh, it's one of those frozen pies. She just throws it in the oven for an hour," Stan smiled, taking another bite. "But she bakes it with love so I guess that makes all the difference."

"Have I ever told you how sentimental you are?" Kyle asked, nudging him.

"On occasion. You missed my dad's sweet potato casserole, by the way," he said. "I'm sure he'll insist you take some home. He made way too much."

"Something to look forward to, I guess," Kyle replied, finishing the last bite of his pie. He was just happy to be with Stan, mainly because it felt like it had been forever since they'd been together like this; content and comfortable.

After Wendy's ill-fated Halloween party, Stan had withdrawn from Kyle in a way he never had before. In fact, he became so remote and distant that it had scared Kyle, but he'd waited, knowing he had no right to demand more of him than he was ready to give. In fact, it still felt that way sometimes, like they were in the same room, sometimes in the same bed, but Stan was in another world entirely. Kyle missed him all the time, but kept continuing to hope that they could come back together in the way that he craved. He prayed that time did indeed heal all wounds.

Stan admitted to being hurt in a way he had never really experienced before, and it was taking everything in him to keep going some days. They were both grieving in different ways, Kyle supposed; and a dark dread seemed to flood his skull at the most unexpected times, and he'd have to take a moment to catch his breath. For a week or so after his confession, Stan had been very aloof, not responding to calls or texts. He hadn't randomly dropped by Kyle's house and he hadn't been waiting for him after tutoring sessions. He needed space, he said, and even though it was killing Kyle inside he dealt with it because, really, it was the least he could do.

That gave Mark ample opportunity to converge on Kyle like the predator he was shaping up to be, but he was more dangerous than he gave him credit for. His presence was deceptively innocuous; waiting on the fringes for a vulnerable moment. It didn't help that he took advantage of the fact that he knew Kyle at least had a physical attraction to him, but it was clear he wanted more of an influence than that. He never did anything that could be considered untoward, but Kyle was on edge just the same; waiting for the other shoe to drop, and hating himself for being even remotely interested.

He'd catch himself watching Mark on occasion, during tutoring or a random moment in class. Kyle would watch the industrial lighting of the school catch highlights in Mark's dark hair, or he'd watch him chew on the end of his pen, lost in thought. Something would stir inside of him, and he'd shake himself out of the reverie but he'd catch himself doing it again before too long.

It didn't help that Mark seemed to enjoy toying with him. Sometimes he would text Kyle out of nowhere, making his heart pound in his chest, only to be asking about a homework assignment or something completely innocent. Other times, Kyle would open the text to something completely out of left field:

 _name a movie you found completely disturbing_

Kyle would stare at the screen wondering where the hell this was coming from, and before he could respond Mark would already be sending another text:

 _for me it has to be Saturday Night Fever. everyone talks about the dance scenes, but a woman was raped in the backseat of a car while John Travolta was driving. It was fucking weird._

Or sometimes he would just send song lyrics, and when Kyle would ask him why, he'd tell him there was really no reason. It was like poetry, and poetry is at its best when it's being shared, or did Kyle not agree?

 _She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running_  
 _Like a watercolor in the rain_  
 _Don't bother asking for explanations_  
 _She'll just tell you that she came_  
 _In the year of the cat_

Kyle would never have let on, but every time Mark would do this, he'd look up the lyrics on Google, find the song they belonged to, and listen to it. Sometimes it seemed like he could get to know Mark this way, but more often than not it would just make him more confused. Most of the time, it just seemed like Mark was texting him like they were already in the middle of an involved conversation that Kyle was just being dropped into that he had to feel his way out of; like being dropped into a pitch black room and having to find the exit.

"I imagine your house is pretty crowded," Stan was saying now, pulling Kyle away from his thoughts.

"Yeah," Kyle replied, absently. "My Uncle Murray is staying for a couple of nights, and Ike has a friend staying over through the weekend. Some of my dad's colleagues stopped by for dinner, too. I had to sit at the kid's table, of course."

"Same. Have you met Shelly's mouth-breathing boyfriend yet? They met in her intro to philosophy class so that's made for some interesting conversation during dinner," Stan said.

"They've got everything figured out, right?"

"And then some. My parents are counting the hours until they leave because they're driving us all crazy. But I can't hate on them too much, as least they seem happy together." He looked down at his empty plate with a sober expression. Standing up, he reached over and took Kyle's empty plate as well. "You want another piece?"

"Nah, I'm okay, thanks," he replied. His appetite hadn't really returned entirely yet, though it had improved slightly. "I'd rather go for a walk or something. What do you think?"

"Yeah, okay," Stan responded, putting their dishes in the sink. Leaning over the table, he blew out the candles, filling the kitchen with the scent of smoke and burning cinnamon.

Grabbing their coats, they waved goodbye to Stan's parents as they passed through the living room. Randy was surrounded by beer bottles while Sharon was crocheting; looking up from the blanket she was making to glance at the halftime show every now and again. Shelly and her boyfriend were out somewhere, Kyle guessed; noticing their absence. Stepping out into the cold, he tucked his hands into his pockets and noticed that fresh snowflakes were twirling through the air. The clouds were dense and gray overhead, reminding him of dirty, saturated cotton puffs.

"It's always so eerie when you go out during a holiday like this," Stan commented as they made their way up the street. "All the parking lots are empty and there's barely any traffic. It's like the world just stops functioning for awhile."

"Mm, but it's nice, don't you think? It's refreshing being able to look around and not see people everywhere."

"I guess. It just makes me feel like the world is coming to an end but I haven't gotten the memo yet." Looking into the sky, Stan sighed a little. "Although, I'll take this over going to work tomorrow any day. I can't believe I went and got a job right before the fucking holiday season. How stupid was that?"

"It was pretty stupid, but I think it's great that you're taking initiative," Kyle said.

Another development that occurred after the Halloween Debacle was that Stan had taken it upon himself to get a job at the movie theater. He'd been fortunate enough to have off on Thanksgiving day, but was scheduled to work Black Friday, which he was dreading. Kyle couldn't blame him, and he couldn't help feeling guilty, too. He knew Stan had gotten a job for extra money, but he'd also admitted to Kyle that he needed something to focus on when Kyle was wrapped up in all of his extra responsibilities. He also suspected that Stan wanted something that would distract him from Mark's bullshit, too.

"Yeah, well, I have to start maturing sometime, right?" Stan asked, bumping into Kyle, who responded by looping his arm through Stan's.

Kyle was relieved when Stan didn't pull away. After he'd told him about Mark kissing him, Stan hadn't just withdrawn emotionally, he'd also been very hesitant about physical contact. It seemed like years had passed since their afternoon trysts in Stan's little bed, with his warm hands sliding over Kyle's skin. Stan had basically told Kyle that he just couldn't go there yet, that he needed time to work out his feelings and get his head straight. At this point, they were together, but their relationship was open.

"I can't stop you from being attracted to Mark, Kyle," Stan had said after he'd come out of his self-imposed isolation. "I don't like it, but I have to accept it. I want to split his fucking head open, of course, but I also think we should kind of slow things down."

Kyle had tried to protest but Stan had insisted. "Look, we're still together, but I want to give you the freedom to make your own choice. If it turns out that I'm not what you need or want or whatever, well, I'd rather know now rather than later."

That conversation had kept Kyle up many a night, walking the floor and hating himself for giving into a reckless impulse. He'd alternate between pining for Stan and recalling his kiss with Mark, and he'd feel torn and alone. Sometimes it felt like his life was just teetering on the edge of a chasm; no matter what choice he made he'd end up taking the wrong step and plunging to his doom. It annoyed him endlessly how angsty his life had become.

Stan's phone sounded in his pocket and pulling it out, he told Kyle that Kenny was inviting them to Stark's Pond to drink some beer he lifted from his old man.

"I'll come along but I'm not drinking," Kyle said. The snow started to pick up then, falling thickly on the road and veiling the trees. The forecast was calling for snow all through the holiday weekend, and he foresaw camping out in his house while his family drove him crazy.

"That's a shame. I was hoping to ply you with booze and take advantage of you," Stan said, smiling down at him.

"Dude, that is in such poor taste," Kyle replied. "I can't believe you just said that."

"I'm just fucking with you," Stan said, putting his arm around him and pulling him close. Kyle wanted to resist but was so glad for the contact that he gave in and leaned against him. "Besides, if we can't find humor in this kind of crap how are we supposed to keep going?"

"Good point," Kyle said. Pressing against Stan, they walked the familiar path to Stark's Pond, the world around them disappearing in a haze of snow and ice.

The next day, Kyle was in the living room with Ike and his friend, playing video games and losing his mind from boredom. He'd been so bored that he'd volunteered to carry his PlayStation downstairs so they could all play together on the biggest TV in the house. Ike's friend, a gangling kid named Hagan, kept dying while playing Dark Souls even though Kyle had tried to tell him how difficult the game was. A monster ripped his character to shreds and Hagan almost threw the controller in frustration.

"Are you sure you don't just want to play Kingdom Hearts or something?" Kyle asked, looking up from his phone.

"It wouldn't matter," Ike said. "He'd get killed playing that game too."

"Shut up, man," Hagan said, waiting for the game to load after being killed yet again. "I'm gonna get this."

"Right," Ike replied, rolling his eyes.

"Who wants cider?" Mrs. Broflovski asked, walking out of the kitchen and drying her hands on a towel. "Oh, and there's apple sufganiyot, too."

"You know, not everything needs to be apple or pumpkin flavored around this time of the year, mom," Kyle said, standing up from the couch while Ike and Hagan rushed into the kitchen. She'd made pumpkin pancakes just that morning. There was suddenly a knock at the door.

"Oh, hush, Kyle. Go and get the door, will you?" Mrs. Broflovski said, going back to the kitchen.

Grumbling, Kyle opened the door, wincing as cold air and a drift of snow blew into the room. He was astonished to see Mark standing there, wearing a charcoal colored trench coat and dark jeans; a wine colored scarf around his neck. He seemed satisfied to see Kyle's look of surprise at his sudden appearance, and he smiled smugly.

"Hey."

"W-what the hell are you doing here?" Kyle said, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one had come into the living room. Reaching down, he grabbed his boots from beside the door, quickly slipped them on, and then stepped outside on the stoop, making sure that the door didn't shut completely behind him. Mortified, he wished that he'd taken the time to get dressed that morning, feeling at a disadvantage in his plaid pajama pants and long-sleeved black shirt. Shivering, he frowned at Mark, waiting for him to answer his question.

"Oh, I was just thinking about you, I guess," he replied, his dark hair blowing across his eyes. "Actually, I was walking home from the store and I passed the movie theater on my way. You'll never guess who I saw working the ticket window, by the way."

"I can't even imagine," Kyle said, annoyed. He knew exactly who Mark had seen but he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of saying the name out loud.

"It sucks that Stan has to work on one of the worst days of the year for customer service," Mark said, brushing the hair from his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm sure you really care," Kyle said. "Just tell me what you want, Mark; it's freezing out here."

"You want my jacket?" Mark asked, smirking. He laughed at Kyle's icy expression. "Relax, Kyle, I was just stopping by to let you know that my mom's free tomorrow for dinner."

Kyle rolled his eyes. He didn't doubt that Mark wanted to invite him over, but the only reason he'd had the balls to actually stop by his house was because Stan was out of the way. He could've thrown this in his face but he had a feeling Mark didn't give a shit about being considered transparent.

"Look, I already told you, I'm not coming over to your house for dinner. Now, get the fu-" he was abruptly cut off when the door opened behind him, and his mother was standing there peering out at them.

"Kyle, who was at the door?" Mrs. Broflovski blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light bouncing off the snow; seeing Kyle, she frowned. "Young man, what are you doing out here without a coat on? You're going to catch your death!"

"It's okay, mom. I was just-"

"Never mind that. Come inside and have some hot cider." She turned away to go inside but looked back over her shoulder. "And bring your friend, there's plenty to go around."

Kyle groaned, knowing that trying to argue with his mom was a losing battle. Glaring at Mark, he noticed that he suddenly looked very pleased with himself. Following Kyle into the house, he shut the door behind them; closing out the chill. Quickly, he made himself right at home, removing his coat and scarf and hanging them on the hall tree; revealing a cable knit navy blue sweater. They walked into the kitchen where Ike and Hagan were sitting at the table, drinking cider and laughing at something on Ike's phone. They looked up curiously when they saw Mark walking into the room behind Kyle.

"This is Mark." Kyle said, flatly. He went over to his mom who was holding out a mug to him.

"Here you go, dear," Kyle's mom said, handing a mug to Mark, too. She offered him a plate of pastries that had been sitting on the stove. "Sufganiyah?"

Mark looked at Kyle, confused; prompting Kyle to roll his eyes and sigh.

"They're basically jelly doughnuts," he said, taking one off the plate. A dusting of powdered sugar coated his fingertips.

"I tweaked the recipe a little bit, though," Mrs. Broflovski said, beaming. "They have apple in them instead of the strawberry jam we usually have."

"That sounds delicious," Mark said, picking up a pastry. He took a big bite and his eyes lit up. "That's amazing, Mrs. Broflovski! I can't believe I've gone my whole life without trying one of these!"

 _I'm sure you've had a fucking doughnut before, you suck-up,_ Kyle thought to himself as his mom blushed, clearly delighted at Mark's reaction.

"Oh, you just made my day! I'll make sure to wrap up a couple for you to take home!" She bustled over to the cabinet to grab the aluminum foil. "I don't remember Kyle bringing you over before," she said as she piled sufganiyot on the sheet of foil she'd ripped off. "Are you new to town?"

"Kind of," Mark replied, settling down at the table beside Ike and Hagan. He polished off the sufganiyah and took a sip of his cider. "My family lived in the area a long time ago, but we moved away because my father got a new job in Maryland."

"Oh, the east coast, huh? My family's originally from New Jersey so we would go to Ocean City once in awhile when we didn't feel like going to Cape May or whatever," she replied, closing the foil around the pastries. She brought it over to the table and set it in front of Mark, who thanked her with a million dollar smile. Just seeing it made Kyle want to vomit. "What does your father do?"

"Oh, he's an actuary," Mark replied, substituting his usual callous attitude towards his father with one of extreme warmth. "I know this is a macabre thing to say, but he basically puts a dollar amount on people's lives." He took another sip of cider. "You have to give me the recipe for this cider, Mrs. Broflovski, it's honestly the best I've ever had."

"I'll write it up for you!" She grabbed a pen and a pad of paper from the junk drawer. "An actuary, huh? Isn't that interesting! And your mother?"

"Well, she's actually the reason I came over to see Kyle today," Mark said, smiling over at him. Kyle responded by taking an aggressive bite of his sufganiyah. "She's a general surgeon and I told her about Kyle and how he wants to be a doctor, so she'd like to meet him and maybe give him some insight into the medical field."

"Oh, isn't that just wonderful? A surgeon? Really? Oh, my goodness, Kyle, isn't that just so nice?" Mrs. Broflovski gushed, reaching over and clutching Kyle's arm like she was about to pass out from sheer joy. Kyle covertly shot Mark a look of pure anger; but Mark just kept on smiling serenely and sipping cider. "That is just so kind of your mother to go out of her way for Kyle."

"She was actually wondering if he might be available tomorrow for dinner? She was able to get the night off and she isn't going to be on call so it would be perfect," Mark said.

"Well, of course Kyle would be available tomorrow! What time? Oh, what should he bring?" She said, and Kyle's stomach sank practically into his shoes.

 _This conniving asshole is unbelievable_ , he seethed inwardly.

"Dinner's at 7 and I'm sure my mother and sister would love anything he brings," Mark said. "As long as you make it," he added, winking at her.

 _I'm seriously going to be sick_ , Kyle thought as his mother almost dissolved at Mark's flattery.

"You have a sister? I'm sure she can't be nearly charming as you, Mark," she said.

"Well, we're twins so she's almost as charming as I am," Mark smiled. "But not quite."

"Oh, you!" She laughed. "Kyle, where have you been keeping this boy? He is just a treasure!"

"That's it!" Kyle said tensely, setting his empty mug on the counter with a little more force than he'd intended. Everyone in the room stared at him in silence and he cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable. "I mean, that's it for the cider, mom. I think I've had enough for the moment. Mark and I need to discuss something in my room right now, okay?" He started walking towards the living room. "Come on, Mark."

"Oh, okay. You boys go on upstairs then," Mrs. Broflovski said. "Mark, you be sure to tell me if you need anything, okay?"

"I know I'm going to need another mug of that cider before I leave, Mrs. Broflovski," Mark replied. "And the recipe of course, but I already know anything I make will pale in comparison."

Kyle's mom replied by giggling and blushing again. She called Mark a "card" and a "pistol" and shooed him out of the kitchen. Kyle was already halfway up the stairs by the time Mark caught up with him, and he slammed the door to his room once they were inside. Facing Mark, he was incensed to see him still smiling serenely, standing there like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

"What the fuck was that just now?" He asked through gritted teeth.

"What was what?" Mark asked, his eyes wide. "I can't help it if I got along with your mom, who, by the way, is just delightful. Now I see where you got your hair color from." Turning on his heel he walked around Kyle's room, running his hand along his dresser and stopping to look at the books on the bookshelf. "The Ender's Game series, huh? Why am I not surprised that you have that?" He asked. "That must mean that you probably have, yup, there it is, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy." He chortled.

"You know what I'm talking about," Kyle said, ignoring his comments. "What was that Eddie Haskell routine you just pulled on my mom down there?"

"Eddie Haskell?" Mark asked, momentarily puzzled. His eyes lit up with recognition after a moment. "Really, Kyle, a Leave it to Beaver reference? How old are you?"

"Just answer the damn question!" He yelled.

Mark slowly walked over to Kyle, and while there was nothing threatening about his demeanor, he still found himself drawing back, and he bumped into his nightstand.

"Okay, Kyle, here's an answer for you," he said, softly. "I wanted you to come to dinner because I'm trying to do something nice for you. You kept avoiding the subject so I went above you. As for the way I acted toward your mother, what can I say? I'm good with parents."

Kyle found himself caught in Mark's eyes, which at the moment were fathomless, almost like staring into the deepest, murkiest part of the ocean. He gulped and stumbled over his words, caught himself, and then tried again.

"You're not doing something nice for me. You're doing this to benefit yourself," He said. "I already told you that I didn't want to do this because of what might have happened that night. I'm not comfortable with any of this."

"Jesus, not this again." Mark ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated.

"It's not going to go away just because you don't like hearing about it!" Kyle snapped, the volume of his voice steadily increasing.

Mark looked at him and his serene look drained away, leaving the cold fury he could seem to adopt at a moment's notice. Within the blink of an eye, he had reached out to grab Kyle's wrist and he pulled him; causing him to stumble and almost fall. Mark caught him, and steadied Kyle on his feet.

"Remember when you fell climbing out of my bed, Kyle?" He asked, close to Kyle's ear. "I seem to recall that I caught you that time, too."

Kyle flushed and tried to pull out of Mark's grasp. "Let me go, Mark. I already told you I don't want this from you."

Mark put his hand under Kyle's chin and tipped his head back. He went to kiss him on the mouth and Kyle turned his face away; making it so Mark's lips grazed across his cheek. The contact felt like it left a trail of fire on Kyle's skin, and his body started to respond to Mark's presence. Hating himself, he willed the feelings away but they persisted; arousal burning through him the way Mark's kiss had ignited his flesh.

"You're so innocent," he said, and the smile was back on his face; effectively wiping away his rage. The abrupt change in moods frightened Kyle, more than his aggressive attempt to kiss him.

"Stan once said I was chaste," Kyle mumbled, his heart hurting at the sweet memory of Stan saying he was like a princess. Thoughts of that faraway afternoon drifted back to him and he could've cried, because everything had seemed so simple back then.

"That brings up an interesting point," Mark said, still holding Kyle but now his hand was on his hip and the other rested behind his neck. "Just how far have you and Stan gone anyway?"

"No," Kyle said, shaking his head. "I'm not going to tell you anything about what I've done with Stan."

"That's fine," Mark replied, shrugging. "It'll be better with me anyway."

Kyle could've slapped him for being so presumptuous, but in that moment he didn't feel like he had the strength. Being held like this was terrifying but it sent a thrill through him too, and every nerve in his body cried out for release; for more, so much more. Mark had to be a little over 6 feet tall and Kyle was 5'6 in his bare feet; it gave him the feeling that Mark could almost pick him up and put him in his pocket. It was like getting lost in his arms and he felt so small; so overwhelmed by the faint smell of cigarettes that clung to Mark's clothes coupled with an earthy scent that he couldn't name.

Mark leaned down and kissed Kyle's neck, making him gasp to feel his lips on his throat. Mark pulled him closer, his hand tightening on his hip, and even though he felt powerless, he tried to fight. As much as he wanted to give in, the rational part of himself just wouldn't let him.

"No, please," he whimpered while pushing against Mark, hating himself for sounding and being so weak.

Without warning, Kyle's ringtone cut through the quiet in the room:

 _he'll just tell you that she came  
In the year of the cat_

"Well, that sounds familiar," Mark laughed, pulling back.

Kyle blushed furiously and scrambled to send the call to voicemail, not even bothering to check to see who was calling. He'd changed his ringtone the night Thanksgiving break started and hadn't really bothered with keeping his phone on vibrate.

"Oh, fuck off, like you're the only person on the planet that listens to that song," he said, hoping a calm voice would belie his humiliation.

"Uh huh, right. This is just some huge coincidence. I just happened to send you the lyrics to that song a few days ago and now it's your ringtone. Give it up, Kyle. You're not fooling me."

"Okay, I've had enough. Get the fuck out of my house, Mark," Kyle said, marching over to the door and yanking it open. "Now."

"Hey, you're the boss," Mark replied. "I'll just stop by the kitchen and get those delicious treats from your mom and that cider recipe." He stopped on his way out the door and looked at Kyle. "In all seriousness, that's the best cider I've ever had. You better appreciate your mom, man. She's a gem."

"Shut up and get out," Kyle barked.

"I'm on my way. See you tomorrow at 7."

Kyle replied by slamming the door in Mark's smarmy face, taking great pleasure in seeing him disappear.

It turned out that the call that interrupted Kyle's interlude with Mark came from Stan, letting him know that he was getting off work and asking if he'd like to go out to get something to eat. After quickly calling him back and apologizing for sending the call to voicemail, Kyle let him know that he'd meet him at Happy Burger in 15 minutes.

Walking the streets as evening was falling, the sky was that strange royal purple color that was synonymous with wintertime as far as Kyle was concerned. He could see it between patches of cloud cover, and the world had that muted quality that followed a snowfall. It was almost like being in a super insulated room, sounds might make it to your ears, but they were muffled and indecipherable. Stray snowflakes kept drifting down, and in the orange light of the streetlamps he could see snow falling steadily, but it was finer now; a sugar snow.

He made it to Happy Burger and saw Stan sitting in a corner table in the back, looking at his phone. He hadn't ordered yet and this detail made Kyle feel tender towards him. Stan was always so considerate of him, even when it came to the most mundane details.

"Hey," he said, taking the seat across from Stan and removing his hat. Shaking out his hair, he smiled to see that Stan had mostly removed his movie theater uniform but had forgotten to take the name tag off his shirt. He reached over and carefully took it off for him.

"Thanks," Stan smiled, looking a little tired. "Today was insane, dude. I never knew so many people went to the movies on Black Friday."

"Well, you've never had to think about it before," Kyle replied, carefully setting the name tag on the table next to Stan's jacket. "I'm buying since you've had a rough day. What do you want?"

"You don't have to do that."

"Trust me, I'm going to owe you one after I tell you about my day," Kyle replied.

Stan frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You need to fortify yourself first. Tell me what you want."

"Uh, I guess a cheeseburger and a strawberry shake."

"No fries?"

"Are you crazy? Of course I want fries."

"Just checking. I'll be right back." He walked over to the register and ordered, all the while aware of Stan watching him with a concerned look on his face.

Coming back to the table with a tray piled high with food, Kyle tried to assume a chipper disposition, at least on the surface.

"Here we go, one cheeseburger, one strawberry milkshake, and fries," he said, sliding the tray over to Stan. Sitting down, he unwrapped a burger for himself. "Oh, and I got an extra large Coke because I know you're going to want some, so we can share."

"You think of everything," Stan said, taking a huge bite of his burger. "Christ, this is the best thing I've ever tasted."

"I highly doubt that," Kyle said, dipping a fry in some ketchup.

Stan shrugged. "Hunger is the best seasoning, I guess."

"Fames est optimum condimentum?" Kyle asked, smirking.

"Now you're just being pretentious."

"It's a gift."

"What happened today?" Stan asked, looking at him wearily. He had nearly finished his burger already.

"I had an unexpected visitor," Kyle replied, his voice grim. "I think you can guess who it was."

"No way," Stan said, his face a mixture of surprise and annoyance. "What the fuck?"

"Right? It should come as no surprise that Mark completely charmed my mother, too. She fell for his bullshit hook, line and sinker."

"So, what'd he want?" Stan asked, pushing his uneaten fries away.

"Oh, the usual; just to manipulate the situation and my mom to his advantage. Now I'm pretty much being ordered to go over to his house for dinner tomorrow."

"I bet your mom heard the words "my mom's a surgeon" and nearly had a heart attack," Stan said.

"Yep. It didn't help that Mark was practically having an orgasm over her apple cider."

"Well, to be fair, your mom does make a kick ass cider," Stan said, raising his eyebrows.

"Stan, focus."

"Right. So, what, are you actually gonna go?"

"I don't have much of a choice," Kyle said, shrugging helplessly. "You know how my mom is. If I even think of saying no she'll destroy me and tell me how ungrateful I am. I mean, I can see why she'd want me to go and I'm actually interested in meeting Mark's mom, but still."

"I'm pretty sure the prospect of having dinner with someone who might have, you know, sexually assaulted you, is not your idea of a good time," Stan said.

"Wow, what would ever give you that idea?" Kyle asked. "I just can't get over how smooth he was about the whole thing. It seems like he always manages to get what he wants in one way or another." He set his burger down, suddenly not feeling very hungry.

"It's crazy to think that at one point you were just worried about him kicking your ass again," Stan said. "Now we're dealing with some fatal attraction level bullshit."

"His sister seems cool," Kyle said, trying to find a silver lining. "I mean, she's weird, or at least their interaction with each other is weird, but I guess that's just a twin thing."

"Why do you think he's so stuck on you?" Stan asked, leaning back in his chair and sipping his shake. He offered it to Kyle who waved it away. "It seems like overnight he just became fixated on you and he won't just take a hint and fuck off."

"I honestly don't know. All I did was tell him to shut the fuck up and stop being an asshole during tutoring, and then everything went downhill. That doesn't exactly seem like the precursor for obsession." Kyle thought a moment. "Maybe he's just lonely?"

"Could be, even though he has his sister. It's not like he's going out of his way to make friends with anyone else at school."

"Well, then, there's only one explanation, I guess."

Stan raised a questioning eyebrow; waiting for Kyle to continue.

"He's just completely fucking nuts," he said, shrugging.

"My god, why didn't I think of that?" Stan asked. "But seriously, dude, why don't you just tell your parents what we think Mark did? There's no way they'd make you go over to his house after that."

"I can't do that," Kyle replied, stubbornly. "I'd be humiliated and my mom would want all the details and then I'd have to admit that I was drinking and smoking. She'd go postal on me."

"Okay, that I can understand, but why would you be humiliated? You didn't do anything wrong; Mark did."

"Yeah, but still. If it actually happened I'd feel like such an idiot for getting myself into that situation. And, god, I don't know." He looked away.

"What?" Stan asked.

"I just feel dirty, I guess. I don't know if it makes any sense but I just feel used and like I can't stand the feeling of being inside my own skin. It's like my body doesn't belong to me anymore...if Mark actually did something to me, anyway."

Stan nodded. "Maybe you should go to counseling or something?"

Kyle shook his head. "No. I couldn't talk about this with a stranger. It's hard enough talking about all of this with you. I really just want to forget about everything, but I know that isn't an option."

"I don't know what to say, Kyle. I really have no idea how to make any of this better." He reached out and put his hand on top of Kyle's.

"I'm just happy that you didn't dump my ass completely after the whole Mark kissing me crap," Kyle said, enjoying the warmth of Stan's hand on his own.

"I want you to have space while you figure shit out, Kyle. Me pressuring you to do what I want won't help the situation. I can't say that I understand your weird attraction to Mark," he cleared his throat and looked away awkwardly, "for obvious reasons, but I'm going to have your back either way. You're my best friend, dude; not just my boyfriend."

"Listen to you getting all sappy," Kyle said, smiling. "I'm pretty sure you'll never change. Not that I'd want you to, of course. Can you do me a favor?" He asked, suddenly becoming serious.

"Anything," Stan said.

"Tomorrow, If I text you a specific word or whatever, will you call my phone and act like you're my mom saying I need to go home right away?"

"Sure, that's actually a really good idea. I'm working tomorrow night but I'll have my phone on me."

Kyle breathed a sigh of relief. "Wish me luck, I guess."

"I'll be on standby to save you if you need it," Stan grinned.

"My hero," Kyle replied, picking up Stan's milkshake and taking a long sip.


	8. Chapter 8

When Kyle woke up the next morning, he was almost immediately assaulted with apprehension at the thought of going to Mark's for dinner. It didn't help his mood to see a number of texts from Mark when he turned on his phone to check the time. The first text was innocent enough, containing the pass code that would open the gates to Mark's home, but the following ones were clearly meant to be provocative:

 _April come she will_  
 _When streams are ripe and swelled with rain_  
 _May she will stay_  
 _Resting in my arms again_  
 _June she'll change her tune_  
 _In restless walks she'll prowl the night_

Kyle rolled his eyes at what were clearly more song lyrics, but became enraged when he read Mark's next text:

 _Just in case you feel like changing your ringtone in the future._

It put him in such a bad mood that his mother made a comment when he entered the kitchen half an hour later.

"Well, you certainly look grumpy this morning, Kyle." She was at the stove tending to a skillet full of scrambled eggs.

Kyle just grunted in response. He poured himself a cup of coffee and opening the fridge, he scowled.

"You didn't buy almond milk?" He asked.

"It's in the back," she replied, lifting the skillet off the stove. "Do you want some eggs?"

Having managed to find the milk, Kyle poured some into his cup. He went and sat at the table, not answering her question.

"Well?" She asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Sure, whatever," he replied, stirring his coffee.

"I'm not sure where this attitude is coming from, but I don't appreciate it." She placed the eggs on a plate and set it in front of him, her voice firm.

"Well, I don't appreciate it when you make decisions for me," he replied, coolly. He took a bite of the eggs and made a face. Picking up the salt shaker he sprinkled some over his plate.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I didn't want to go to Mark's house for dinner, mom. But instead of asking me you just decided for me."

She sat down at the table. "I wasn't trying to make you unhappy, Kyle," she said, frowning. "Why don't you want to have dinner at his house? Don't you want to meet his mother?"

Kyle dropped his fork with a clatter and sat back, frustrated. "Yes, I want to meet her, just not like this."

"I don't understand."

"Look, I can't go into detail, okay? I just wanted you to know that I'm really not cool with this situation, so in the future can you please ask me before you just make decisions like that?"

"Well, of course, but I still want to know what you're talking about. Did something happen, Kyle?" She peered at him. "You've been acting so strangely lately and I've been waiting for you to open up, but you won't talk to me. Or your father," she added.

"Mark and I have had disagreements in the past, mom. Let's leave it at that."

"Oh? But he seemed so nice." She brightened. "Maybe he's trying to make up for everything, you know? I got the sense that he was genuinely trying to be helpful, Kyle."

Yeah, that's what he wanted you to think, Kyle thought. Looking at his mom's face he knew he was fighting a losing battle. She was the type of adult that was so taken in by polite kids that she'd never see Mark for what he was unless Kyle came right out and told her what he suspected about him. That was never going to happen, of course. He couldn't even tell her that he might be weirdly attracted to him too because then he'd have to disclose the fact that he was gay. He really wasn't ready to start unpacking that part of his life with his parents yet.

Mr. Broflovski walked into the kitchen then, dressed in a robe and slippers.

"Morning," he said, yawning.

"There's coffee," Mrs. Broflovski said, still looking at Kyle with concern. Reluctantly, she stood and picked up a plate from the counter. "Eggs, dear?"

"Yes, please. Are there any bagels?"

"No, I have some nice rye bread from the bakery, though."

"That sounds great. Could you toast it and put some butter on it for me, please?"

"Of course. Go and sit down, honey. You look exhausted."

"I am. I just can't stop going over the details of this case in my head. It doesn't help that this client is relentless," he sat down at the table heavily and looked at Kyle, who was still picking at his plate of eggs. "I hear you have an important meeting tonight."

"Yeah, I'm meeting with the board of investors," Kyle replied, taking a bite of egg. He put his fork down and pushed his plate away. His appetite was gone and there was no reviving it.

"Kyle," his mom said, a note of warning in her tone.

He sighed. "Yeah, dad, I'm going over to a friend's house tonight." He could've choked on the word "friend" but he tried to appear relaxed. On the inside he was seething with resentment and anger; coupled with a feeling of fear and abject longing.

"His friend, Mark, spoke with his mother about Kyle's wanting to be a doctor and she's interested in meeting with him," Sheila said. "She's a surgeon, Gerald." Her voice was filled with reverence.

"How exciting! Kyle, you should be thrilled," Gerald said, taking a sip of coffee.

Kyle grunted. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father look quizzically at his mom; she just shrugged.

"Well, I hope you have a good time at any rate," his father continued, clearly choosing to ignore Kyle's sullen attitude. No doubt his parents would discuss it later when Kyle was out of earshot, but he wasn't going to worry about that now.

"I'm making up a trifle for him to take along," Sheila said.

"Just as long as it's not pumpkin or apple. I've had enough pumpkin and apple crap to last me until next Thanksgiving," Kyle said. He stood from the table and picked up his unfinished plate of eggs. He tipped the leftovers into the trash and put the plate in the sink with a clatter.

"Maybe you should just be grateful that your mother is trying to do something nice for you," his father said, his voice carrying the same warning tone that his mother's had just a moment ago.

Kyle fought back the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that he was already on thin ice. "Sure, right. Mom is always just trying to help me out...even when I don't ask her to. I couldn't be happier about that."

"Now, look here, young man-" his father started to say, but Mrs. Broflovski held up her hand and shook her head. Lapsing into silence, he picked up a piece of toast and tore a piece off; his face stern.

"I'm going back to bed," Kyle muttered, leaving the room. He covered his ears to make sure he wouldn't hear his parents talking about him before he was safely upstairs.

Kyle set out for Mark's house a little before 6:30 that night, holding a plastic bag containing his mother's trifle. It had taken all of his powers of persuasion to convince her that he didn't need a ride.

"Mark lives just beyond Stark's Pond, mom. It's like, a 10 minute walk at most."

Her eyes had lit up and Kyle had regretted saying anything beyond "I don't need a ride. Back off."

"Oh, does he live in those estates over there? Those houses are just gorgeous!"

"Yes, mom, and I know exactly where I'm going so I'll be fine. Besides, the roads are awful. If I need anything I'll call you."

"Well, if you're sure..."

As he was leaving Ike had come downstairs to get something to eat for himself and Hagan. He'd watched Kyle put on his boots with a serious expression.

"Can I help you?" Kyle had asked, annoyed at being watched.

"You're going to that weird guy's house for dinner?"

"Yeah," Kyle replied, holding up the bag. "With mom's super awesome trifle. I'm too excited for words." He pulled his boots on and straightened up. "You think Mark is weird?" He asked, trying to feign nonchalance.

Ike had shrugged. "Yeah, a little. He seemed like he was just pretending to be nice."

Kyle thought about Ike's words now as he trudged along the snowy streets. Ike was just a kid but he'd always been unusually perceptive. When Ike said something, Kyle was usually inclined to listen to him and consider his opinion. His observation just made him feel even more uneasy about going over to Mark's. He could only hope that the inclusion of Rebecca and Dr. Cotwolds would provide enough of a buffer to keep Mark at bay.

He walked up to the ornate wrought iron gates at the end of the drive and paused. If Stan hadn't been working that night he would've seriously considered running away and over to his house. As it stood, he didn't really have anywhere else to go, and the snow was picking up making the world around him a gloomy haze. The sun had set over an hour ago, and Kyle couldn't see very far into the woods he'd passed while walking to the house's driveway, and Stark's Pond was a field of ice; its surface hard enough to stand on. South Park had been plunged into the heart of a true winter storm, and the night was unwelcoming and bitter. Kyle's teeth chattered as he punched in the pass code and he waited for the gates to open.

Thankfully, the driveway had been plowed and it wasn't too much of a struggle to make it up the path, but Kyle still felt his feet dragging with every step. Coming upon the house, the reclining dragon that it was, brought back memories Kyle would have preferred to forget. He could picture that impressive foyer and the oriental rug lying on the floor; splashes of brilliant color drenching the fibers. Unbidden, the memory (or dream?) of floating in an upstairs room, of being paralyzed, flashed through his head, and he hesitated before ringing the doorbell.

All at once, the door was opening and a flood of light fell across Kyle, illuminating the interior of the house and there was Mark, dressed in slacks and a white shirt; a lazy smile crawling across his face. The light caught the highlights in his hair (mahogany, Kyle thought idly) and he stood back, letting Kyle step inside. He reached out to brush the snowflakes off of his coat and Kyle drew back, startled by the gesture.

"Relax," Mark said. "Here, let me take your coat."

Kyle allowed him to slide his coat from his shoulders, still trying to thaw out from the chill outdoors and the apprehension making his heart pound uncomfortably fast.

"I'm glad you're here," Mark said, glancing down at the bag Kyle was carrying. "Did your mom make something for us?"

"Yes, a trifle," Kyle muttered, watching as Mark folded his coat over his arm. Following behind him, they moved through the house towards the kitchen, the familiar lights turning on automatically when they passed by. Walking into the kitchen, a delicious aroma caught Kyle by surprise.

"My mother and Becky insisted on cooking," Mark explained. "Here, set your bag down here." He directed. "Normally the housekeeper would fix dinner but they were feeling festive, I guess. We don't really have guests that often."

"Really?" Kyle asked. He set the bag on the counter and opened it, lifting the dessert out.

"Well, my mom has friends and colleagues over pretty regularly, of course." Mark said, eyeing the trifle. "That looks great, your mom really went to a lot of trouble."

Kyle opened his mouth to reply when he heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

"Mark? Is your friend here?" A tall, striking woman walked into the kitchen, her high heels hitting the floor with little clacks. Her brown hair was streaked with silver and swept into a large chignon that was ornamented with a delicate pearl comb, which matched the small pearls dotting her ears. She wore a wispy white blouse with a high collar and ruffles around the throat, and a grey pencil skirt.

"Mom, this is Kyle," Mark said, leaning on the counter.

Smiling, she came over to Kyle and extended a hand which he took shyly.

"It's so nice to meet you, Kyle. I'm Lydia Cotswolds," she shook his hand firmly. Glancing over, she seemed to notice the trifle on the counter and her eyes brightened. "Oh, did you bring something? That's just perfectly lovely!"

"My mother wanted to thank you for having me over," Kyle said. "So, she made a trifle. She said it has cream puffs, ricotta cream, fruit and -" he paused, groping for the last ingredient. His mother had talked a blue streak about the damn trifle but he had tuned her out. "Blood orange marmalade! That's it!" He said, blushing. "It's a Martha Stewart recipe, I think."

"Well, it's beautiful," she said, rotating the bowl and looking at it from every angle. "Mark told me that your mother was a great cook so I'm looking forward to trying this." She looked at Mark pointedly then. "Mark, have you offered your guest a drink yet?"

"I was just about to when you interrupted us," Mark replied. "What'll you have, Kyle?"

"Oh, whatever you have is fine," Kyle stammered.

"I'll take a sherry, Mark," Dr. Cotswolds said, going to the fridge. "Kyle, I bought this wonderful cheese platter earlier today. Would you like some?"

"Oh, sure. I mean, yes, please."

She was putting the plate of cheese on the counter when Rebecca breezed in, wearing a scarlet coat and a matching beret. She was carrying shopping bags and her face was a rosy pink.

"I might have gone a little bit overboard buying Christmas decorations, mom," she said, setting the bags down. She started unbuttoning her coat, revealing a white sweater underneath decorated with a fuzzy Christmas tree. She was also wearing faded skinny jeans and silver sequined Uggs. Noticing Kyle, she smiled warmly.

"Kyle! You actually came! I'm sure Mark is happy," she laughed, looking at her brother. Mark just rolled his eyes in response.

"What did you buy?" Their mom asked, peering into one of the bags.

"A little bit of everything," Rebecca replied, looking sheepish. "Let's go into the living room and I'll show you. You too, Kyle." She picked up the bags and dashed out of the room, leaving her coat and beret behind.

"Here, Kyle. Help yourself," Dr. Cotswolds said, offering him a plate. She picked up the crystal glass of sherry that Mark had poured for her and followed Rebecca into the living room.

"You want some wine?" Mark asked, his face deceptively serious. Kyle could tell he was trying to be funny.

"No, thanks. I know better than to drink while you're around," he said. "I'll just have some water, I guess."

"How fancy." Mark went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water and threw it over to him. "Mom also bought some crackers and stuff to go along with that cheese," he said, opening a cabinet. "Here."

"Thanks." Kyle arranged some crackers and cheese on his plate. "Why'd Rebecca seem surprised that I showed up?" He asked.

"Really, Kyle? Becky knows I've been on your ass about coming over," Mark replied, plucking a piece of cheese off of Kyle's plate instead of the platter. "Honestly, I didn't think you'd show up either."

"You're lucky I did," Kyle muttered.

"Well, thank you for gracing us with your presence," Mark laughed, taking another piece of cheese off of Kyle's plate.

"Dude, get your own! It's literally right there!" Kyle snapped, snatching his plate away.

"Honestly, Kyle, I am glad that you came over tonight," Mark said. Looking at Kyle, his eyes were dark green and serious. Coming around the counter, he stepped closer to him and reached up, brushing a thumb across Kyle's lower lip before he could move away. "I'm not always trying to mess with you, you know. I'd like to help you, if I can."

Kyle flushed and stared into Mark's eyes, feeling frozen in place. He wasn't used to Mark being nice like this and, in fact, his behavior reminded him of Stan's. A fleeting moment of tenderness overcame him, and he had to will himself to look away. "Help me? Right, I'll believe that when I see it. So far, you've just gotten off on seeing me in uncomfortable situations."

"Can I help it if you're cute when you're flustered?" Mark asked, reaching down and settling a hand on Kyle's hip. He gripped him gently. "Like right now, for example? You're blushing."

"No, I'm not! Let go of me!" Kyle went to push him away when Rebecca walked into the room; she sized up the situation pretty quickly, too.

"Are you guys coming or what?" She asked, smiling knowingly and crossing her arms. "Mom is excited to play her Carpenters Christmas album for everyone."

"Yeah, we'll be there in just a second," Mark said, letting go of Kyle reluctantly. Kyle just looked down at his plate of cheese, his face burning.

"Right," she said, smirking and turning to leave.

"Well, let's go join the fun, shall we?" Mark asked, putting his arm around Kyle and ushering him out of the kitchen.

Why didn't I run away into the woods when I had the chance? Kyle thought as he pushed Mark's arm off of his shoulder.

 _Merry Christmas Darling_  
 _We're apart that's true_  
 _But I can dream and in my dreams_  
 _I'm Christmasing with you_

"Oh, I just love her voice," Dr. Cotswolds was saying, as she sipped her sherry; her expression was dreamy and faraway. She sat on a plush white couch as Rebecca went through the shopping bags, showing her what she'd bought. Soon, layers of garland and tinsel and ornaments were strewn all across the living room, and she hadn't even emptied all the bags yet. Karen Carpenter's silken voice emanated from the Bose speakers, filling the room.

"I thought we could do a theme for the tree this year," Rebecca was saying as she pulled out boxes of Christmas lights. "I was thinking white lights on the tree, and a bunch of stags in different designs." She lined up tiny reindeer on the floor, all delicately constructed from colorful metals; pretty soon there was a rainbow of them laid across the carpet.

"Oh, what a fun idea!" Her mother said, leaning forward and placing her glass on the coffee table. "Mark, honey, what do you think?" She asked, standing from the couch and coming to sit on the floor beside Rebecca. She held up a silver stag and it glowed orange, reflecting the fire burning merrily in the fireplace behind them.

Mark was sitting in a rose-colored wingback chair, with his legs crossed and his chin propped on his hand. He was watching the scene in front of him with a passive expression while sipping a glass of wine. Kyle was amazed when Dr. Cotswolds didn't scold him for drinking alcohol, but she really didn't seem to mind.

"I really don't have an opinion about how we decorate the tree, mom," he said, mildly. "You seem to forget that I never do."

"I was hoping you'd be more interested this year," she replied, picking up a crystal stag. It too caught the light of the flames, dazzling Kyle's eyes.

"Sorry to disappoint you," he said, taking another long drink. "And I'm pretty sure Kyle doesn't care either. I mean, he is Jewish and all."

"No, it's fine!" Kyle said, feeling awkward. "I mean, it sounds like a nice idea." He smiled at Dr. Cotswolds. He picked up a tiny porcelain snowman and looked at it with feigned interest. It was pretty clear that Rebecca and her mother were the type of Christmas enthusiasts who wanted to start decorating as soon as the Thanksgiving table was cleared, and he could accept that, even if he didn't necessarily understand it. He'd been dealing with Christmas enthusiasm since he was a child and at this point he was pretty indifferent to the excessive amounts of cheer.

"Thank you for indulging me, Kyle, even if Mark won't," she smiled, rifling through another shopping bag. In the kitchen a buzzer went off, and she set the bag aside.

Standing, she looked at Mark with her eyebrows raised. "I realize I can't get you to be excited about Christmas but can I talk you into setting the table, at least?"

"Anything for you, mother," he said, draining the last of the wine from his glass. "Coming, Kyle?"

"He can stay here with me," Rebecca interjected, setting up the pieces of an elaborate nativity scene on the huge mantle over the fireplace.

"Is that so? Did you want to help Becky set up the birth of Jesus Christ, Kyle?"

"Sure, why not?" Kyle replied, defiantly. He picked up a wise man. "Just show me where this goes."

"Whatever," Mark said, rolling his eyes and leaving the room looking irritated.

"He's been acting so weird lately," Rebecca said, pointing to a place on the mantle where Kyle placed the wise man.

"How can you tell?" Kyle asked. He winced. "Sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

 _Yes, I did_ , he thought, but he didn't want to offend Rebecca after she'd always been so pleasant towards him.

"Well, for starters, you're the first person he's ever invited over for dinner," she said, "which is already crazy, but he's never even considered inviting someone to meet our mom. Here, help me unravel these lights so I can plug them in to make sure they work."

Kyle dutifully helped her untangle the lights and stretch them across the floor towards an outlet. Plugging them in, she smiled with satisfaction when they glowed a soft white.

"I don't think it's that strange. I mean, I told Mark that I want to be a doctor and he mentioned it to your mom. It wasn't anything too out of the ordinary," Kyle said, helping her untangle another strand of lights.

"Trust me, just the fact that he even remembered you telling him that was out of the ordinary," she replied. She picked up a glass mug and took a sip. "Mmm, there's nothing better than eggnog spiked with rum at this time of year."

"Your mom is really cool about you two drinking around her," he remarked.

"Mom picks her battles. Besides, she knows that Mark and I would never be stupid enough to get loaded and then get in the car," she replied, taking another drink. "She's a lot more relaxed about this stuff than our dad, thank god."

"Mark mentioned he was kind of a control freak."

"That's putting it mildly," she said.

Kyle was silent for a time, watching her opening boxes of ornaments and organizing decorations. In addition to the bags she'd brought home, there were numerous other boxes in the living room, no doubt full of Christmas paraphernalia. "So, does Mark have any friends?" He finally asked.

She looked at him, her face thoughtful. "No, not really," she said. "Then again, he really doesn't want any either."

"Then why did he invite me over?" Kyle asked.

"That's a great question, Kyle. Honestly, I'm really not sure, although, he did tell me about you yelling at him during tutoring." She grinned. "Oh, to have been a fly on the wall for that one, by the way. No one's ever really stood up to him like that before."

"Not even you?"

"Well, yeah, I have. Sometimes, anyway," she said, clearing her throat. "I can see how that would pique his interest, but to go out of his way for you like this; he just doesn't do stuff like that. I know my brother like the back of my hand, and even I can't figure out why he's acting like this." Gazing at him, she shrugged. "I guess you're just a special snowflake or something."

"And what are you, a manic pixie dream girl?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah, a regular Holly Golightly, that's me." She did a mock curtsy. "At your service, Sir Snowflake."

"You're as demented as he is," Kyle said, laughing.

"Dinner's ready," Mark said, standing in the doorway and watching them with a dark expression. "If you guys are still interested." He turned around and left.

"Ooh, we get a side of jealousy with our dinner, Kyle. Now I really can't wait," Rebecca said, and she hooked her arm through his, just like she was always doing with Mark at school. "I hope you brought your appetite for bullshit."

"I always do," Kyle said.

Seating himself at the long cherry wood table in the dining room, an increased sense of intimidation washed over Kyle as he took in his surroundings. The living room had been impressive, of course, with a vaulted ceiling and floor to ceiling windows that looked out on the frosty trees and expansive grounds, but the dining room was a horse of a different color entirely. On every wall were forest scenes with people in medieval dress, and a unicorn in the process of being pursued and captured.

"Salad, Kyle?" Dr. Cotswolds asked, pulling his focus away from the walls. She was holding a tray with small plates of greens on it.

"Oh, yes, please," he replied, feeling awkward. She set a plate in front of him and he wondered why she didn't have a servant doing this instead; they clearly had the money to afford one. Or several, really. She laid the tray on the sideboard and seated herself at the head of the table.

"Okay, you guys, dig in," she instructed, picking up a fork. "I made that endive salad with the pears and Gorgonzola because you seemed to like it the last time we had it."

"Please tell me you put walnuts in it, too," Rebecca said, spearing a piece of lettuce with her fork.

"Please tell me you didn't," Mark said, looking at his plate closely.

"I didn't put any on yours, Mark. Calm down. Kyle, I didn't put any on yours either in case you have a nut allergy."

"Oh, thanks. I don't, but thank you," Kyle said, bashfully. Taking a bite, he was taken aback by how delicious the cheese and pears were together. He found himself gazing at the forest scenes on the walls as he ate his salad.

"Do you like the murals, Kyle?" Dr. Cotswolds asked, sipping her sherry.

"They're interesting," he replied. "And a little disturbing. It's weird seeing a bunch of people stabbing at a unicorn with spears."

"My mother commissioned these murals a very long time ago," Dr. Cotswolds explained. "They're a replication of the Unicorn Tapestries that were woven, gosh," she thought a moment, "over six hundred years ago, I believe?" She set her glass down and took another bite of salad, chewing thoughtfully. "She fell in love with the original tapestries when she worked as a curator at The Cloisters in New York City."

"Wow, how long did it take to paint all of these?" Kyle asked, looking around. Each of the scenes were at least 7 feet tall, if he had to guess; although he was a horrible judge when it came to dimensions.

"The better part of a decade," she replied. "They were a wedding gift from my father to be more specific. After they were married, he told her that she could redecorate the house anyway she wanted, and she started with this room and these murals. I guess it was a way of bringing a part of her old life along with her." She finished her salad and laid her fork across her plate. "I was born near the tail-end of their construction actually, and as I grew up I learned to love them as much as my mother did."

"I think they're bizarre," Mark said, finishing up his salad as well. "Look at the lion's faces in the fountain scene. It makes me wonder if they ever actually saw a lion in real life."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they hadn't," his mother replied. "Maybe they heard stories from people who traveled to faraway lands and saw these fantastic animals and brought the tales home with them. I'm sure they had to let their imaginations do a lot of the work. We do the same thing with dinosaurs nowadays, don't we? We'll never actually see them, so all we can do is speculate and wonder."

"I think it's a little more involved than that," Mark said. "Scientists have a lot more to work with than just imagination and conjecture."

"Yes, of course, but still," she looked up at the murals and a wistful look passed over her face. "There's something to be said for man's ability to imagine whole new worlds and creatures."

"I'm sorry, Kyle. I'm afraid you've caught our mother in one of her more whimsical moods," Mark said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, leave her alone, Mark. Not everyone is as stodgy as you are," Rebecca spoke up, pushing away from the table. "I love these paintings as much as you do, mother. Here, let me help you bring in the next course."

"Thank you, dear. Kyle, are you finished?"

"Yes, thank you," he said. "Do you need help? I can clear the plates away."

"Of course not. You're a guest, Kyle. You stay right there and we'll be right back." She smiled and gathered the plates onto the tray. Rebecca followed her out of the room, leaving Kyle alone with Mark.

Reaching out, Mark pushed a glowing candelabra aside, making it so he could see Kyle clearly. "You'll have to excuse her," he said. "My mother lapses into these moods when she isn't working. I guess she likes being able to turn off the doctor part of her brain when she has a chance. Not that she's ever completely able to."

"I don't know. I think being clinical and imaginative go hand in hand when it comes to being a doctor," Kyle said, toying with his water glass. "It's not like I really have anything to base this on, but I imagine the human body and medicine have just as much gray area as anything else."

"That's fair, but she just gets so stuck on things like this," Mark replied, gesturing at the walls. "My father never understood it either. In fact, it may be the one thing we actually have in common."

"I think you understand it way more than you realize," Kyle argued. "What do you think you're doing when you look at the stars? How is that different than looking at a painting?"

"We can actually learn things from the stars and the universe that we can apply to life on earth, Kyle," Mark scoffed. "It's not even remotely the same."

"Now I just think you're being contrary just for the sake of being contrary," Kyle said. "Which leads me to believe being difficult is just the cornerstone of your personality."

"Well, if isn't the pot calling the kettle black," Mark replied. "But at least it makes for interesting conversation, right? Special snowflake?" He snickered.

Kyle blushed. "Listening in on other's people's conversations is in exceedingly poor taste, Mark."

"I never said I had good taste, Kyle," he replied, smiling. "Besides, you guys were talking about me. I have the right to hear what you have to say if you're going to be tasteless and talk about me behind my back."

Kyle looked away in irritation. Having a conversation with Mark was like a tennis match, and he never seemed to win when it came to verbal sparring. He had to admit that Mark kept him on his toes and it could be exciting, but sometimes it was just tiring. He was grateful when Dr. Cotswolds and Rebecca returned, each carrying a tray.

"So, mom and I agreed on Shepherd's Pie for tonight," Rebecca said as she put Kyle's plate in front of him. A pile of mashed potatoes, vegetables, and meat were swimming in a fragrant sauce, and he realized this was what he smelled when he first entered the kitchen. His mouth watered in anticipation.

"Well, I guess we should really be calling it cottage pie, right?" Her mother asked, raising an eyebrow. "We used beef instead of lamb, after all." She glanced at Kyle. "I'm sorry if you like it, dear, I've just always found lamb to be a little too gamy for my tastes."

"Let's overlook the semantics here and just eat," Mark said, exasperated. "It smells wonderful and I'm sure it tastes wonderful, regardless of what meat you used."

After everyone was seated, Kyle took a bite of his food and almost melted it tasted so good. "This is delicious, Dr. Cotswolds," he said, taking another bite.

"Oh, please, Kyle. Call me Lydia," she replied, smiling. "And thank you, I'm very pleased that you like it."

"Excuse me, but are you forgetting someone?" Rebecca chimed in, feigning extreme annoyance. "Let's not forget that this was a combined effort, okay?"

"Of course. It's great, Rebecca," Kyle said.

"You don't have to stroke her ego," Mark said. "Believe me, she has that covered."

"Look who's talking," Rebecca replied, swatting at her brother playfully. "You are truly the most annoying person on the planet."

"What an honor."

"Children," Dr Cotswolds said in a mild voice. "There's no need to argue about this when you're both equally annoying." She turned to Kyle. "So, Kyle, Mark tells me you want to be a doctor someday."

Kyle swallowed a mouthful of mashed potatoes and nodded. "Yes, ever since I was little."

"That's just wonderful. Is there any branch of medicine that interests you in particular?"

"Well, right now I'm interning at a urology practice and that's been pretty enlightening," he replied.

"You know, I always really enjoyed meeting with urologists during clinical rotations when I was a student," she said. "They always seemed to have the best sense of humor, but I guess that just comes with the territory. Which practice are you working for?"

"Well, I mainly help out Dr. Boyle," Kyle said, stabbing a carrot and bringing it to his mouth.

"Karen?" She asked. "Oh, she's the best, and her work in aesthetics is fascinating. From what I understand, people from all over the world come to her for consultations."

"Yes, we had a man make an appointment last month who lived in Australia. He was interested in having a vasectomy reversal."

"Now there's some meticulous surgery," Dr. Cotswolds said. She turned to her children. "You know, they practice with mouse veins to replicate the tiny sutures they have to use."

Rebecca looked a little squeamish at this bit of information. "That's great, mom." She set her fork down.

"Rebecca, you used to love pretending to be a doctor," her mother said.

"And playing it too," Mark said, grinning. "Mom, Kyle is the same kid that played doctor with Becky back before we moved away."

"Oh, I thought you looked familiar," she laughed. "As you can see, Rebecca doesn't have the same aspirations she used to."

"I'm sure you'll learn to love me anyway," Rebecca said. "Besides, people change, mom. Kind of like when you decided to divorce daddy and move us back here of all places." She smiled sweetly.

"Here we go," Mark said, setting his fork down with a clatter.

"I really don't want to have this conversation right now," Dr. Cotswolds said, pinching the bridge of her nose, her eyes shut tight.

"I'm just saying, if you want to criticize me, I can at least level the playing field; it's only fair," Rebecca said, tearing a roll apart and popping a piece in her mouth.

"I wasn't criticizing you, sweetheart. I was just saying that your goals are different now, and that's okay." Her mother said, softly. In the following silence, she took a drink of sherry.

"I have to use the bathroom, excuse me," Rebecca muttered, pushing herself away from the table and standing up. She left the room quickly.

Dr. Cotswolds sighed. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Kyle," she said, putting her fork down slowly. "I guess we're all still getting used to our new circumstances."

"I'm not. I couldn't wait for you to divorce that asshole," Mark said, matter-of-factly.

"Mark!" His mother exclaimed, her face shocked. She pushed her chair back and picked up her napkin from her lap; she dabbed at her lips while giving her son a look of disapproval. "You know I don't like to hear you say things like that about your father. And, really, in front of a guest? Where are your manners?"

"I guess I don't have any unless dad is here to threaten me with bodily harm," he replied, sneering.

"Oh, Mark," she said, looking down at the table. In the light being cast from the candles she looked very young, the faint lines by her eyes and mouth smoothed away. Kyle felt acutely uncomfortable in that moment, and he didn't know where to look so he just kept his eyes down.

"Mark, I know you and your father have a," she paused, "difficult relationship, but please, as a personal favor to me, don't say things like that where I can hear you. Your father had some habits that I found repulsive, and I still do, but what good is it to badmouth him? Does it make you feel better?"

"Yeah, it does, actually," he replied, his tone flippant. "But, fine, I'll try not to talk shit about him in your presence, okay? I can't say that I'll always be successful but I'll make a concerted effort." His face split into a big fake smile.

"Thank you, and please, can you knock it off with the cursing? There are so many better words you could use." She rubbed her forehead and took a sip of water.

Kyle put his fork down on his plate as quietly as possible, so as not to call attention to himself, but in the silence a metallic _ting_ could still be heard. Dr. Cotswolds glanced at him, her brow furrowed.

"I can't apologize enough for myself and my children," she said. "We've put you in a very awkward position and it's just unforgivable."

"No, it's okay, I promise!" Kyle stammered, feeling his face become hot. Little beads of sweat had risen on his forehead, and he hoped no one had noticed. "My family argues all the time. I mean, I'm pretty sure every family argues every now and then, so really, it's no big deal." Nervously, he fumbled for his napkin and wiped his mouth to get himself to stop rambling.

"That's a fair statement, I suppose," she said, smiling a little. "What did Tolstoy say about happy families being all alike, but every unhappy family being unhappy in its own way? I guess there's a truth to that, and more unhappy families than happy ones."

"Mom, we aren't unhappy. Becky is just too sensitive sometimes and I'm a jerk, so lighten up," Mark said.

"I'll try, son," she said, wryly. "I'm going to go see about your sister. It always takes her forever to calm down after we have a disagreement." She rose from her place and looked apologetically at Kyle.

"I'm so sorry our conversation was interrupted, Kyle," she said.

"Please, don't apologize, Dr. Cotswolds. I just appreciate you having me over for dinner, really," Kyle said, deciding not to call her by her first name. His parents were so strict about things like that that he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Well, I'll go smooth things over with Rebecca," she sighed. "Hopefully we can all come back together for that lovely dessert your mother made for us. If you'll excuse me, please." She left the room, her high heels clacking on the wood floor. Mark and Kyle sat in silence until the sound faded away.

Mark sighed, running his hands through his hair. "I've pretty much lost my appetite," he said, pushing his plate away. "How about you?"

Kyle laid his napkin on the table and nodded. "Yeah, I'm done. It was delicious, though," he added, trying to be positive. Based on Mark's humorless expression, he doubted it made much of a difference. His face hadn't taken on that hard quality that usually meant he was angry, but Kyle could see that they were moving in that direction. Jumping up, he grabbed his plate.

"Come on, I'll help you clear away the dishes. It's only fair that we clean, since your mother and sister cooked." He started gathering plates and silverware.

Groaning, Mark stacked Becky's plate on top of his own and stood. "I hate doing the dishes," he said. "Of course my mom had to go and give the help the weekend off because of Thanksgiving." Together, they loaded a tray with cutlery and china, which Mark hefted into the kitchen, Kyle in tow. Setting it down, Mark just stood there until Kyle sighed and started rolling up his sleeves.

"I'll rinse everything off and you load the dishwasher, okay?"

"Fine, whatever you say," he replied, eyeing the dirty articles with distaste.

As they worked, Kyle tried to find something he could say that would help ease the tension, but everything seemed wrong. They worked in an uneasy silence until Mark finally spoke.

"You know, all things considered, that family dinner went better than most."

"Oh?" Kyle asked, rinsing a plate.

"Before they got divorced, my parents would argue every time we all ate together; especially near the end." He took the plate Kyle handed him and placed it in the dishwasher rack.

"It's really nice that your mom doesn't criticize your father in front of you," Kyle said.

"You think so? It really annoys me, actually," he replied.

"Why?"

"Mainly because he always finds a reason to shit talk her," he said, an edge in his voice. "My father doesn't mind telling us what he thinks of her every chance he gets."

"Well, at least one of your parents can be mature."

"I guess, but just once I would really like to see her unload on him. Of course, Becky would have a problem with that, but dammit, her loyalty is severely misplaced."

"I thought your mother and sister got along pretty well," Kyle said, puzzled.

"They do, most of the time, but my sister is still looking for my dad's approval for whatever reason, and no matter how much I argue with her about it she won't change." The anger was showing up on his face now, just as Kyle expected it would. "It's the one thing we just can't see eye to eye on, and I hate it."

Having finally finished the dishes, Mark pour himself a glass of wine. "They're going to take forever, I can already tell. Let's go smoke."

"No way," Kyle replied, flatly. "Maybe I should just go."

"No," Mark said, reaching out and grabbing his wrist. Kyle winced as his strong fingers pressed into his skin. Seeing this, Mark loosened his grip, but slightly. "Please, don't go. I could really use someone to talk to."

Kyle studied his face, not sure what to do. Mark was clearly out of sorts but he just didn't trust him, and smoking was absolutely out of the question. A pang of sympathy plucked at him though, and he relented. "Fine, I'll stay, and you can smoke, but I'm not doing it; end of discussion."

"Okay, okay. You don't want to smoke, I get it. Come on."

Reluctantly, Kyle followed Mark as he took the familiar path to his room, up a curving staircase and down a long hallway lined with family portraits and oil paintings. Kyle could feel his anxiety growing with each step, but he fought it back by reminding himself that they weren't alone this time; that somewhere in that massive house Mark's mother and Rebecca could hear him if he needed them to. He was also aware of his phone in his back pocket, knowing that Stan would come to help him with just a word; that thought comforted him.

Stepping into Mark's room again was disquieting, and he took note of the few things he could remember from his last visit; the fish tank bubbling in the corner, the huge bed, and the doors leading to the balcony and the bathroom. Kyle also noticed that the telescope that was originally sitting outside had been brought into the room, no doubt to protect it from a relentless South Park snowstorm.

"Hey, can you look outside and see if the storm has died down at all? My mom is pretty lax about drinking, but she'll kill me if I try to smoke inside."

Kyle nodded, ignoring his impending panic. Walking across the room he opened up the door to the balcony and stepped outside. The snow had stopped for a time, leaving behind a chilled stillness devoid of sound, save for Kyle's crunching footsteps as he stepped into the snow. It had developed a delicate icy crust that cracked as he put his weight on it. Stars were scattered where there were breaks in the cloud covering, and they too had seemed to take on a glacial quality.

"It's okay out here," Kyle called over his shoulder while crossing his arms tightly across his chest. "It's just cold as balls."

Mark had thrown on a hoody before joining Kyle on the balcony, and he offered him one as well. As he pulled it on, Kyle could hear the telltale click of Mark's lighter. When he could see again, Mark had already brought the blunt to his lips and was inhaling deeply.

"Are you sure you don't want any?" He asked, a stream of smoke escaping his mouth.

Kyle shook his head. "I'm not smoking with you, Mark. Give it a rest."

Mark shrugged and took another hit. "Suit yourself. You don't know what you're missing, though."

"I can live with that," he replied.

"Thanks for staying, by the way," Mark said. "Stuff with my father always makes me feel like I'm losing my mind."

"You're welcome, although I don't know how I can really help."

"You're helping just by listening to me complain," Mark replied. "This is a subject I can't even discuss with Becky, so I usually just have to try and ignore it. Wait, hold on." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, the display lighting up his face.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"What? What happened?" Kyle asked, alarmed at the anger in Mark's voice.

"Here, read this and see for yourself," Mark seethed, handing him the phone.

Kyle looked at the screen and saw that it was a text from Mark's dad:

 _Tried to reach your sister but she didn't pick up. I texted her too but I wanted to make sure that she got my message. Please let her know that I have to cancel her visit next weekend; something came up. Happy Thanksgiving, by the way._

"Wow, that's cold," Kyle murmured, handing the phone back.

"And this is after he told Becky that he wouldn't be available on Thanksgiving for her to visit. That fucking guy, I swear to god," Mark said, his voice loaded with cold fury. "This is going to crush her, but of course my dad would put the responsibility of actually telling her face to face in my lap."

He finished off the joint in one long, aggressive drag and stubbed it out on the snow covered railing of the balcony. "God, for two fucking cents I would destroy that guy, Kyle; for two lousy goddamn cents." He wiped a hand quickly across his eyes and Kyle could see that his face wasn't just furious, he could see misery etched there as well.

"Sometimes it just gets to be too much, you know? It wasn't enough that he terrorized us when we lived with him, but he can still treat us like shit when he's over 4 hours away. It's amazing."

"If there's anything I've noticed it's that a genuine asshole doesn't change regardless of their location or circumstances," Kyle said, thinking briefly of Cartman.

Mark turned away so Kyle couldn't see his face, and he thought he heard him let out a shuddering breath, but he couldn't be sure. Timidly, he stepped over to him and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Mark? Are you okay?"

In a flash, Mark turned around and pulled Kyle into a bone-crushing hug, taking him completely by surprise. He held him tightly against his chest, one of his hands tangling in his hair. Kyle could hear him breathing heavily, and for a moment he was so focused on that sound and his own shock that he couldn't respond. Coming to his senses, he weakly tried to push him away.

"What are you doing? Let go of me," he said, his nose filling with the scent of weed and cold air, coupled with Mark's earthy aroma that called to mind visions of green forests and rainfall.

"No, Kyle, please. I just need to be close to someone; to you. Please," Mark said softly against his ear, his warm breath making him shiver as much as the cold night air.

Kyle could feel himself relaxing in his arms despite himself, and trembling, he wrapped his arms around Mark as well. Mark took this as an invitation to kiss Kyle's temple and down along his jawline, until finally reaching his mouth. He kissed him roughly on his lips, his tongue aggressively licking his bottom lip and delving into his mouth, making Kyle moan deep in his throat. Mark's hand remained tangled in Kyle's hair, but his other arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him close.

Vaguely, Kyle could feel himself being backed through the door to Mark's room, his mind awash with desire; making him feel hazy and heavy in Mark's arms. It was like they were melting together, and his body was burning to be touched; to be taken. He felt the backs of his legs bump against something and turning, he saw that he was standing right next to Mark's bed, and he allowed himself to be pushed back onto the mattress. He lay there, looking up at Mark and feeling intoxicated, and he watched as Mark pulled of his hoody and threw it to the floor. He unbuttoned the white shirt beneath and took that off as well.

Mark knelt on the bed, straddling Kyle and reaching for his wrists, which he pulled upward, placing them on either side of his head. Gripping them, he leaned down and kissed Kyle's mouth again, sliding his tongue down over his bottom lip, along his jaw, and down to his throat, where he kissed his neck and nipped the skin lightly with his teeth. Kyle jumped at the sensation.

"It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." He smiled, squeezing Kyle's wrists tighter. "I promise."


	9. Chapter 9

**You're gonna see me, in your dreams tonight**  
 **My face is gonna haunt you all the time**  
 **I promise that you're gonna want me back**  
 **When your world falls apart, like shattered glass**

 **-Shattered Glass, Britney Spears**

 **Ah, when to the heart of man**  
 **Was it ever less than a treason**  
 **To go with the drift of things,**  
 **To yield with a grace to reason,**  
 **And bow and accept the end**  
 **Of a love or a season?**

 **-Reluctance by Robert Frost**

There were hands holding his wrists; strong hands squeezing the skin there. Feeling drunk, he tasted someone's lips on his own, and their flavor was a mixture of smoke and wine; feverish lips that kissed him with an aggressive need that almost scared him. His body was pressed deeply into the mattress, and when he dared to open his eyes he could see flashes of dark hair and lightly tanned (olive?) skin, and somewhere inside of his desire-saturated brain Kyle wondered what Stan was doing in that moment.

Memories of Stan's late-afternoon bedroom came to him as Mark sucked gently on his neck, the sensation making him writhe and turn his head; his cheek cushioned by the comforter. Rapid-fire images assaulted his mind and he could see Stan looking at him, his eyes tender, with his room flooded in hazy sunshine; his face taking on that look it always got when he touched Kyle in a certain way and he was waiting for his reaction. In contrast, Mark's face was deluged with a primal aggression, almost like he was hungry for something he'd never had the chance to taste.

"Sit up for me," he was saying now while sliding back. Still holding his wrists, Mark pulled him up and letting him go, reached down and deftly pulled off Kyle's hoody. Throwing it aside, he began to unbutton Kyle's light blue shirt, his fingers lingering on every button like he was unwrapping a gift to himself. He was halfway done when he looked into Kyle's eyes and he dropped his focus to the pale skin he had exposed. He placed a fingertip on Kyle's mouth and surprising even himself, Kyle kissed it and licked it lightly with his tongue. Mark's eyes widened and he smiled.

"I knew you weren't shy," he said, his voice low. He dragged the finger Kyle had licked down his throat and chest, stopping where his shirt was still buttoned. Quickly, he undid those buttons too and parted Kyle's shirt, slipping it off his shoulders and partially down his arms. Standing up, Mark looked down at him and Kyle, leaning back on his hands with his shirt open and pushed back, had to look away, realizing he was exposed and panting from the things Mark was doing to him.

"I have to say I like you like this, Kyle," Mark said, and he undid his belt buckle as he spoke. He unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them, and he pulled the belt off, folding it in half and pulling it taut. Nudging his leg in between Kyle's, he pushed his legs apart. "There, that's better," he said, softly. Pushing one end of the belt into the buckle, he pulled it until a reasonably sized loop was left, and he slowly placed it over Kyle's head and around his throat.

"W-what are you doing?" Kyle asked in a trembling voice.

"Oh, it's just a game I like to play," Mark said, pulling the belt so it slowly tightened around Kyle's neck. The soft leather felt strange on Kyle's skin but he was so caught up in Mark's spell that he didn't fight against its presence. "Like I said, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to show you a few things. Is that okay?"

Kyle nodded slowly, and he could feel the belt tighten again. Mark pulled it a little tighter as he kissed Kyle's lips, and his hand drifted down to settle on the front of his pants. Kyle shifted when Mark touched him there, and that's when Mark pulled the belt tight enough so that it was biting into his skin; enough that for a moment it was hard for Kyle to breathe. He became still and Mark loosened the pressure, his hand still on Kyle's crotch.

"Do you see how this works?" Mark asked.

Kyle nodded slightly and he went to touch the belt circling his throat. Mark tightened it again and he stopped. He placed his hand back on the bed and he looked up at Mark, his eyes wide and his heart pounding wildly. He was also aware that he was becoming more aroused every time Mark cinched the belt tighter.

A knock came at the door and Kyle was so startled he pulled against the belt. Mark yanked on it softly and pulled Kyle towards him.

"Be quiet and I'll handle this, okay?" He whispered.

Kyle just nodded again while trying to pull his shirt closed. Mark rolled his eyes.

"Relax, Kyle. I locked the door." Still holding the belt, he looked at the door. "What?" He shouted.

"It's me, honey," Dr. Cotswolds said, her voice floating into the room. "Rebecca and I are making some coffee and I thought we could have some of the dessert Kyle brought with him."

Mark sighed irritably and he looked at Kyle, his eyes narrowed. After a moment, he turned to the door again.

"Okay, fine. We'll be down in just a second," he called.

"Okay, darling," she replied. "I'll make up a couple of bowls for you two."

They both listened as her footsteps faded away down the hall. With noticeable reluctance, Mark loosened the belt and slipped it off of Kyle. Tossing it aside, he smiled at him. "I guess we'll have to come back to this, huh?"

Kyle was buttoning up his shirt with shaky hands, and he didn't know what to say. What could you say after doing something like that for the first time? "I'm not even sure what just happened," he finally choked out. "I can't believe I let you do that," he added, rubbing the skin on his neck. It was almost like the belt was still there.

"Neither can I, actually," Mark replied. "But you never know what you like until you try it, right?" He was buttoning up his shirt too.

"I don't know if I really liked that, though," Kyle said.

"Oh, you did, Kyle. You should've seen your face."

Kyle gave him a dirty look. "Why do I keep letting you get to me like this? I feel like I've lost my fucking mind."

Mark shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe you have? At the very least you're finally letting yourself live a little bit."

Kyle grunted, annoyed. Something Mark had said came back to him. "You said that's a game you like to play, right? Are you telling me you've done this crap before?"

"Oh, yeah. Tons of times," Mark replied, rising from the bed. He extended a hand to Kyle to help him up.

"Who the hell have you done that with?" Kyle asked, incredulous.

"I'm pretty sure that doesn't matter," Mark said, his tone dismissive. "Come on, let's go before Becky comes up here and drags us downstairs."

When they entered the kitchen, there were two bowls of trifle waiting on the counter for them just like Dr. Cotswolds had promised.

"Kyle, would you like some coffee?" She asked, gesturing at a full pot that was filling the room with its dark fragrance.

"No, thank you," Kyle said. "If I drink that now I'll never get to sleep tonight." He noticed that Dr. Cotswolds had let her hair down, and it fell in waves to her shoulders. Rebecca's hair had been tied back into a loose bun on top of her head, tiny curls escaping here and there. It was damp and she was wearing a white robe, and Kyle guessed she had taken a shower to help her calm down.

"Mark," she said, "I made you an Irish coffee." She handed a glass mug to her brother containing coffee topped with a thick crown of cream. Taking a sip, Mark offered the cup to Kyle.

"Here, try it. Becky makes a perfect Irish coffee," he said.

Curious, Kyle accepted the mug and took a sip, the warm, sweet coffee swirling into his mouth along with the airy cream. He knew that there was alcohol in an Irish coffee but he figured one little drink wouldn't hurt.

"That's delicious," he said, handing the mug back to Mark.

Mark smiled. "See? I told you. Oh, wait," he reached up and wiped some foam away from Kyle's upper lip. "There, that's better."

"What were you two doing upstairs, anyway?" Rebecca asked, watching this exchange between her brother and Kyle closely. "Kyle, your hair's a mess."

Blushing, Kyle felt his hair and knew that it probably looked awful. The thought of his head rubbing against the bed as Mark kissed him flashed through his mind, along with the memory of Mark's fingers being tangled in it and pulling his head back. Looking away in shame, he let Mark field Rebecca's question.

"We were outside on the balcony," he said, drinking more of the coffee. "It's pretty windy out there still, but at least the snow has stopped, at least for a little while."

Rebecca still looked suspicious but she accepted this explanation without asking more questions; filling Kyle with relief. Dr. Cotswolds picked up her coffee mug and her dessert.

"Come on, let's go enjoy our dessert in the living room in front of the fire," she said. She led the way out of the kitchen and Kyle noticed that she was in her bare feet, having removed her high heels.

Settling in, the four of them passed the rest of the evening with easy conversation devoid of tension, and Kyle and Dr. Cotswolds were even able to discuss his future some more, with her making recommendations as to which schools had the best pre-med programs.

"I went to the University of Puget Sound when I first started out," she said, fondly. "It's not the flashiest school or the most prestigious, but I wouldn't trade my time there for anything. I guess I'm partial to the Olympic Peninsula though, having grown up there."

"Really? I've never been to that area of the country before," Kyle said, finishing his trifle.

"Yes, my parents had a cabin out on Hood Canal and it was just beautiful," she replied. "We could see the tips of the Cascade mountains over the trees on really clear mornings, and with all of those pine trees around, gosh," she sighed, "the air was clear and I absolutely loved it. At night you could hear the seals barking in the water as you fell asleep."

"I'm pretty sure we're going to lose mom if she walks down memory lane any further," Rebecca said, nudging Mark. Kyle noticed that her arm was wrapped around her brother's tightly.

"Come back to us, mom," he said.

"Anyway," she continued, "part of the reason I wanted to become a doctor happened on the canal, actually. My brother broke his leg while playing soccer and in a panic, my parents called our family doctor who just happened to be out on his yacht on Hood Canal at the time." She glanced at Kyle. "He lived right up the road from us," she explained. "Well, he told my folks to bring my brother on over and he'd have his boat docked for us to come aboard. Well, you'll never believe what happened next."

"What?" Kyle asked, intrigued.

"Well, this doctor ended up setting my brother's leg while being completely drunk*, but my parents didn't realize it." She shook her head. "How they couldn't have noticed is completely beyond me, but he set the leg incorrectly."

"You're kidding," Kyle breathed, his eyes wide.

"I wish! It wasn't until several days later, after my brother had already had a cast placed, that they realized something was wrong, because my brother was just in constant pain, and he screamed every time his leg moved even a little. Finally, they couldn't take it anymore and they ended up taking my brother to the hospital. After a couple of x-rays the doctors let them know that my brother's leg was healing incorrectly and they'd have to re-break it. My mother almost had a heart attack when she heard the news." Sighing, she took a sip of coffee. "Of course, that moron of a doctor got a slap on the wrist because the rules were different back then, I guess, but after seeing my brother go through so much agony at the hands of an incompetent doctor, I made it my goal to become a good one."

"And she did, too," Rebecca said, smiling at her mother.

"Thank you, darling," Dr. Cotswolds replied. Looking down at her watch, she gasped. "My goodness, it's already after 10:30, Kyle! Your parents must be worried sick!" She stood up. "Here, let me grab my shoes and I'll drive you home."

"That's alright, mom," Mark said. "The roads are awful, I'll just walk Kyle home."

"Are you sure?" She asked, her face worried. "It's so cold outside."

"I'll wear a coat, promise," he said. "Really, we'll be fine. Come on, Kyle." He went to stand up but Rebecca held him back.

"I'll go too," she said.

"You don't have to," he replied, unhooking her arm from his. "Kyle doesn't live that far, I'll be back in less than half an hour."

Pouting, she watched Kyle and Mark as they prepared to leave. "Thank you so much for having me over, Dr. Cotswolds," Kyle said.

"It was my pleasure, Kyle. You must come over again soon. Oh, and don't worry about your mother's dish. I'll wash it and Mark will bring it to you at school on Monday, if that's okay?"

"Sure, that's fine. Thank you," he said. He turned to Rebecca. "Thanks again for making dinner."

"Right, of course," she said, still pouting. "No problem."

In the foyer, Mark helped Kyle into his coat and then opened the door for him. Stepping outside, Kyle saw that it had begun to snow again and he groaned. With careful steps they made their way down the curving driveway, listening to the snow blowing through the trees; the tiny sounds of ice particles striking the branches. Mark was quiet as they walked, and Kyle wasn't sure what to say, so they passed the time in companionable silence; save for the wind and snow.

It wasn't until they'd made it to the corner of Kyle's street that Mark grabbed his arm and pulled him close, and he held him tightly beneath the light of a streetlamp. He kissed Kyle's lips with the same intensity as he had back in his bedroom, and Kyle had a hard time staying on his feet. Leaning into Mark, Kyle allowed the kiss to deepen and could feel Mark's tongue exploring his mouth. Feeling almost desperate with desire, he clutched at Mark's coat and tried to pull him even closer.

"We're always being interrupted as soon as we're finally alone," Mark said, pulling back and looking into Kyle's face. Impatience was simmering in his eyes. "I don't know how much longer I can wait." Resting a hand on Kyle's cheek he kissed him again, and this time he bit his lower lip lightly, making Kyle cry out.

"Don't act so surprised," Mark laughed. "I've already done worse to you, or did you forget?" He stroked Kyle's neck softly.

"I should probably go inside," Kyle said, placing his hand on his neck too. "My parents are going to wonder where I am, especially with all the snow." He started to draw away but Mark pulled him back, placing one last, hard kiss on his lips.

"Go," he said. "We'll pick up where we left off before too long, I guess." He smiled.

Kyle hurried away, looking back over his shoulder when he made it to his house, and he could see Mark still standing there, silhouetted under the yellow glow of the streetlamp. He waved briefly and then jammed his hands in his pockets, and turning he walked down the street, becoming just another shape in the darkness as he left the pool of light afforded by the streetlamp. Kyle ran to his front door and rifled through his coat pocket, trying to find his key. He found it and placed it in the lock, and after a moment he was inside his house; safe from the snow and cold, but still feeling like Mark could see him, no matter where he went.

After checking in with his parents and saying good night, Kyle went to his room and closed the door slowly, lost in thought. Pulling off his coat, he looked in the mirror hanging on the back of the door and inspected his neck. Aside from a very faint hickey, his skin looked the same, even though he was beginning to feel a little sore. He tried to imagine what he had looked like to Mark, sprawled on his bed, shirt open, and his belt wrapped around his neck. The idea was eerily similar to the dream he'd had, sitting on a throne in royal finery, a golden choker around his throat with a long chain attached.

No matter what he did, he always seemed to be bowing to Mark's whims; succumbing to his dark and confusing predilections. Maybe the dream had been a prophecy and Kyle really was meant to serve Mark, but instead of being forced to he was going to willingly sacrifice himself. The thought disturbed him beyond measure, especially since he still didn't know the truth of that one lost night and the bruises it created. Would he ever know the truth, and even if he did, would it change the path he was on; that he was choosing?

Maybe the worst part of all this was that he could feel himself being pulled further and further from Stan every time he was seduced by Mark's charms, and he hated himself for being so weak. There was no doubt in his mind that he loved Stan in a way that Mark could never touch, after all Stan represented every thing Kyle considered clean; sunshine, tender words, and romance. When he was in Stan's arms he had a chance to be pure and protected; cherished, really. Mark was the wolf at the door, the teeth in the chill outside that gave it its bite; he was blood pooling under his skin to create a bruise, and the leash around his neck that always kept Kyle from straying too far.

Needing a distraction from his thoughts, Kyle checked his phone. There was a text from Stan and he read it with a sinking stomach:

 _didn't hear from you tonight so I guess everything went ok. i work in the evening tomorrow so i was wondering if you wanted to meet for coffee in the morning? let me know...i miss you._

Kyle texted him back, guilt slowing his fingers to a crawl:

 _I miss you, too. Tonight was...different, I guess. I'll explain tomorrow; meet you at Harbuck's at 9?_

Stan replied in a few minutes and his response made Kyle smile, mainly because it was true:

 _9 is cool. Different, huh? I'm sure Mark found a way to make even having dinner with his mom weird. See you tomorrow._

Kyle changed into his pajama pants and ratty t-shirt and climbed into bed, never feeling more awake. He could only wonder how he'd gotten to this point in his life, and where the hell was he even going? He supposed that people his age got into some weird shit as high school started coming to a close and the next chapter was set to begin, but how had he managed to find his way here? Everything had always made sense, and he'd always been careful to follow a very specific path, but now he was losing himself. Turning over, he looked out at the snow swirling past his window until he sank into an uneasy sleep, his neck throbbing faintly.

"Wow, you're hungry this morning," Stan commented, watching Kyle sit down at the table with a large hot chocolate covered in whipped cream and a bear claw studded with almonds.

"It's weird, even though I went to Mark's house for dinner, we really didn't end up eating a whole lot," Kyle replied. He scooped up some whipped cream with a spoon and popped it into his mouth. Gesturing to his hot chocolate, he asked Stan if he wanted some.

"Sure," Stan said, and he opened his mouth with a little glint in his eye. Kyle grinned, catching on.

"Hold on," he said, and he scooped up another spoonful of whipped cream and placed it in Stan's waiting mouth. "What do you think?"

"I think I would've preferred if you'd done that with your finger, but I'll take what I can get," Stan said. He picked up his coffee and took a sip. "So, why didn't you eat very much at Mark's?" He snapped off a piece of Kyle's bear claw and bit into it. "More specifically, what did Mark do to cause it?"

Kyle took a drink of his hot chocolate and winced when it burned his mouth. "Surprisingly, it wasn't Mark that made things awkward," he said. "It was Rebecca and their mom." He thought a moment. "Actually, it was mainly Rebecca but her mom played a part."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, apparently Rebecca wanted to be a doctor at one point, but that changed as she grew up and Dr. Cotswolds made a comment about it. Somehow, that turned into Rebecca throwing her parents' divorce in her mom's face and getting on her case about bringing them back to South Park."

"Every meal goes better with a little family drama, don't you think?" Stan asked, rolling his eyes. "At least now we know for certain that people living in castles have just as many problems as the rest of us."

"Dude, I think they have more. Mark and Rebecca's dad is a stone-cold bastard. And," he added, leaning in closer, "Mark made a comment about his dad hitting him when he was younger."

Stan absorbed this bit of information with an impassive face. He picked at his breakfast sandwich, pulling off a small piece of ham and putting it in his mouth. He chewed slowly, swallowed, and finally spoke. "Well, that's pretty sad, I guess. I mean, I don't like hearing about anyone being abused by their parents, but that doesn't make it okay for Mark to treat people anyway he wants. And I think you know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Yes, I do," Kyle said, looking away. Sighing, his appetite for his breakfast was dwindling because of Stan's implication, and he had no idea how he was going to tell him about what Mark had done with the belt. In fact, he really didn't feel like he was even ready to talk about it yet so, recklessly, he kept it to himself. "But how will I ever know for sure what happened that night? And what if," he stopped for a moment to collect his thoughts, "what if Mark didn't actually do anything? What then?"

Stan set his coffee down on the table and crossed his arms. "Well, then I guess you two will be free to be together, Kyle. Aren't you excited?" He looked at the ceiling like he was trying very hard not to lose his temper. "Okay, so, let's say Mark didn't do anything, alright? He didn't assault you or whatever, but so what? He's still weird and he seems to be obsessed with you. Also," he rubbed his face in exasperation, "he doesn't seem to give a shit that we're in a relationship. Yes, we're "taking a break" or whatever you want to call it, but we were completely together when he started pulling his bullshit, and he just didn't care. What kind of person acts like that?"

"Mark doesn't seem to take things like that into consideration, does he?" Kyle said, stirring his hot chocolate even though he had no intention of finishing it.

"No, Kyle, he doesn't. I don't think he has the capability of even being a decent friend, let alone someone you would ever want to date. What is this weird hold he has over you, huh? I just don't get it so please help me understand." Stan reached across the table and took Kyle's hand, and the gesture almost made him want to cry.

"I don't know," Kyle said so softly he was almost whispering. "He makes me feel so confused and he always makes me second-guess myself when he's around. I don't know what to do, Stan. I don't necessarily like him as a person, even though I think he's smart; my body just responds to him. I'm attracted to him. I don't know what else to say."

"Neither do I," Stan said and he lapsed into a silence that seemed to stretch on forever, each moment becoming more pregnant than the one that came before it. The muscles in his jaw jumped and he appeared to be trying to gather control before he started speaking again. "I want to be with you more than anything, Kyle, but I can't just continue to watch this happen. It hurts too much. Until you figure out what you want, I don't think I can be with you in any type of romantic relationship, even an open one."

Kyle's heart felt like it thudded into the bottom of his stomach when Stan said that, and almost immediately his eyes began to water. Hunching over the table, he watched as tears fell from his eyes and plopped into his lukewarm hot chocolate, and try as he might, he couldn't make them stop. Whenever he was really upset, his skin would start to feel super sensitive, like every nerve in his body was exposed. In that moment he felt completely raw and ripped open, and he struggled to retain any semblance of composure.

"Kyle, Kyle, hold on. Please stop," Stan said, coming around the table to sit beside him. Putting his arms around Kyle he pulled him close, trying to sooth him. "I'm not saying that I don't care about you. If anything, I care about you so much that I can't stand seeing you give into Mark like this. I don't trust that guy but I know you need to make your own decisions." He was quiet for a moment while Kyle silently sobbed. "I'm sorry but I didn't think this would hurt so much; I'm so fucking weak."

"No, you're not. I am," Kyle cried into his shoulder. "Stan, I'm so sorry I let all of this happen...I'm just lucky you put up with this for so long. I know I shouldn't let Mark get to me like this, and I know he's not a good person. I'm not even a good person anymore."

Stan shushed him softly and held him closer. "That isn't true, you're a wonderful person. In fact, you're my favorite person in the whole world, and that's part of the reason this hurts so much. I'm not leaving you, Kyle. I just want you to figure out who you want to be, and where you want to go. You have your whole future mapped out when it comes to school and your career, but you need to decide what kind of person you want to share all that with. Who knows? Maybe you don't need to be with anyone right now."

Kyle pulled away and looked into Stan's sweet, blue eyes, and he could see that he was starting to cry too. Seeing those tears destroyed what was left of his heart, and he could feel himself breaking down even more inside. Desperately, he tried to find the right words to say in a quagmire of wrong ones.

"Stan, I love you. I love you so much," he blurted out. Slapping a hand over his mouth at this confession, he stared at Stan, who seemed equally as shocked. A few tears slid out of Stan's eyes and he smiled, and it was a smile that had enough warmth and power behind it to light up South Park and melt all the snow away. Kyle basked in this smile like he would a ray of pure, spring sunshine; and for a moment he almost felt like himself again.

"I know you do, Kyle. I think this almost goes without saying but I think you need to hear it: I love you, too, and I always have." Wiping the tears away from Kyle's eyes with his thumbs, he kissed him lightly on the nose. "Now I need you to start doing some soul-searching, alright? Because if we get back together, I need to know that you want me and love me the same way that I want and need you. Okay?"

Kyle had started to cry again, but somehow his heart felt a little lighter after telling Stan that he loved him. He managed to nod and tried to assure Stan that he would try for him, even if it was hard. They managed to pass the rest of breakfast laughing and talking as best friends, but when they parted that morning and went their separate ways, Kyle was already beginning to mourn the love that had started at the beginning of summer, but had barely managed to last longer than a season.

Notes: *I just want to go on record to say that this little anecdote is based on actual events. My father broke his leg as a teenager and some stupid doctor drunkenly tried to set it. As a result, he fucked up the leg's healing process and he had to have it broken and reset again. So, wherever you are out there, negligent doctor, you're an asshole. (Who am I kidding? He's probably dead at this point; this happened in the 70s and that dude was pretty old already, if I'm recalling the story correctly.)


	10. Chapter 10

Notes: I just wanted to provide a warning at the beginning regarding the racy nature of this chapter. As a general rule, I'm not really fond of writing overly involved sex scenes, but for whatever reason it felt necessary in this instance. If you are not a fan of that type of subject matter, I would recommend not reading this particular chapter. However, if that's your cup of tea, tuck in and get comfortable; you're in for a bumpy ride. As always, I hope everyone who happens to read this enjoys it, and if the mood strikes you, please leave a comment. I absolutely adore feedback. Thank you for indulging my habit of prattling on; now off you go. Read in good health!

Chapter Text

 **I might just text you**  
 **Turn your phone over, when it's all over**  
 **No settling down, my text go to your screen**  
 **You know better than that**  
 **I come around when you least expect me**  
 **I'm sitting at the bar when your glass is empty**  
 **You thinking that the songs coming on to tempt me**  
 **I need to be alone like the way you left me**  
 **You start calling, you start crying**  
 **I come over, I'm inside you**  
 **I can't find you**

 **-Childish Gambino, Heartbeat**

December seeped into South Park with record low temperatures, causing the snowfall that covered the town during Thanksgiving to become a permanent, hardened part of the landscape. After the storms finally stopped, the town was blessed with clear blue skies polished to a sapphire brilliance and sharpened by cruel, bitter winds. Kyle found it unbearable to be outside for any length of time, and he could feel the cold sinking into his bones and making a home there.

The weather wasn't the only thing that was bringing him misery, though. After that Sunday morning breakfast during Thanksgiving break, he and Stan had still been affectionate with one another, but not like before. The intimacy they had cultivated just wasn't there anymore, and Kyle felt stupid for even thinking that things could stay the same in any capacity. They still met for coffee in the mornings with Cartman and Kenny, but Stan no longer had a latte waiting for Kyle when he showed up, and his habit of casually draping his arm around Kyle's shoulders had disappeared.

Kyle was surprised to realize that it was the little things he missed the most; the things he had appreciated every time they happened and the other tiny gestures that he probably took for granted. Sometimes he felt like he would give anything to have Stan reach out and take his hand while he was talking, almost like he wasn't even aware he was doing it; just holding it gently to show that he was listening. He missed the way Stan would tease him about his picky eating habits and his obsessive need to keep his fingernails clean and short. At night when he crawled into bed his heart ached at the absence of Stan's customary good night text; he missed it all.

Gone were those feverish afternoons wrapped up in each other's arms and becoming lost in one another; the lingering kisses and exploration. Stan was the first person to touch Kyle under his clothes, to kiss him so deeply he thought he was becoming drunk from it. The intoxication and excitement of discovering one another had created its own potent type of ecstasy that had left Kyle breathless, and without it, he just felt lost. That's the way he felt now; lost and wandering alone. The worst part was that he had been the master of his own misery; he'd created this situation, and he kept it going.

Ever since Mark had placed his belt around Kyle's neck it felt like it was always there, and whenever he wanted Kyle he would tug on it and draw him closer. It could be with a word or a look or a gesture; the catalyst didn't matter because Kyle would respond regardless. It almost felt like he was running to Mark to punish himself for pushing Stan away. What did it matter now? Mark was starting to take on the same dimension as the bitter cold gripping South Park; he had found a way to sink into Kyle's bones right down to the marrow.

Kyle had tried to resist at first, especially right after Stan broke up with him. He'd distanced himself from everyone for awhile, and had responded to his heartbreak in the same way he'd dealt with the bruises and lost memories; he completely checked out. Really, his way to deal with trauma was not to deal with it at all. He didn't want to talk to his parents, he didn't want to face his feelings, and now that he didn't have Stan in his corner like before, he really didn't have an outlet to turn to. So he turned inward and tried to cope by becoming numb, and for awhile that worked. He was even able to resist Mark's seductive overtures for a couple of weeks, until one fateful day in mid-December.

It was a late Friday afternoon and another tutoring session was winding down. Kyle felt like he was finally making some headway with Ben and Nathan, the other boy Mr. Mackey had asked him to tutor, so he was actually feeling chipper for the first time in awhile. After he outlined the areas he really wanted them to focus on for next time, Mr. Mackey had come into the room like he always did to announce that the session was over. Kyle had packed up his bag and shrugged on his coat, relieved that he'd finally pulled out the heavy one he reserved for really cold weather, and had slowly walked outside. He didn't feel an extreme need to hurry, after all, Stan was working that night and they hadn't really talked about getting together anyway, and he wasn't really interested in making plans with anyone else at the moment.

He'd done his best to shut out and avoid Mark since Thanksgiving break, and for the first time it almost seemed like he was respecting Kyle's boundaries. Walking home, Kyle struggled not to succumb to the awful cold, and he pulled his scarf tight around his neck, vaguely aware that the sensation was very similar to a certain someone's soft leather belt. Ignoring this unwanted thought, he trudged towards home, his breath soaking into his scarf and making it soggy. The sun was already low in the sky, hanging on the horizon like a bloated salmon egg, but its ruby light provided very little warmth.

The icy winds were relentless, and while they couldn't make their way through his thick coat, they tore through the fabric of his jeans, making his skinny legs go numb. He kept thinking to himself that he could bear this cold if not for the wind, but it kept whistling through him, and it felt like it was scraping layers of him away. It was to the point where the wind was bringing involuntary tears to his eyes when a black car pulled up beside him and stopped at the curb. The cold was making him drowsy so it took him a moment to realize who it was.

The window slowly slid down and there was Mark, smiling and squinting in the bloody glow of the sun.

"Kyle, it's too cold for you to be walking home. Come on, get in and I'll drive you," he called.

Kyle was too cold to talk so he just shook his head and kept walking. Mark drove alongside him as he stubbornly stalked along, the wind tearing him to shreds.

"Kyle, you're being ridiculous. Just get in the car."

Kyle stopped, turned, and faced him. He pulled his scarf away from his mouth and managed to make his cold face work enough to respond. "I don't need a ride, Mark. Just leave me alone." Having said his piece, he continued walking, trying his best to ignore Mark, who kept driving beside him. After some time, he was vaguely aware that Mark's car was no longer next to him, but he refused to look back to see where it was. He tried to increase his pace, but it was hard when the cold was so brutal. Every joint and muscle was becoming stiff, so he tried to just focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

He'd gone several yards when he felt a hand gripping his arm and he was being whipped around to face Mark, whose messy windswept hair had been glazed with the light of the sunset. He didn't look angry, just annoyed, and his hand was still clutching Kyle's upper arm.

"Kyle, listen. The wind chill today is dangerously low; do you want to get frostbite or something? Stop being stupid and get in the damn car."

Kyle pulled his arm away, infuriated that Mark never seemed to listen to anything he said. He was trying to behave and Mark was making it so fucking difficult.

"I told you that I don't want a ride," he said through gritted teeth. "What part of that do you not understand? I'm perfectly capable of walking home on my own."

Mark rolled his eyes towards the sky like he was praying to God to give him strength. When he looked at Kyle again, it was like he was trying to make sense of a newly discovered life form. "I know you're capable of walking home, Kyle," he said, slowly, like he was talking to a child. "I just don't think it's safe, and if you'd bothered to look at the forecast today you'd already know that." He opened his arms and looked around. "Do you see anyone else out walking? No? That's because it's too fucking cold. Now get your ass in the car before I drag you there myself."

Kyle took a step back. "N-no," he cleared his throat, trying to sound strong. "No, I'm not going with you, and I mean it. I'm walking home just like I planned, end of story."

"Well, I guess you've made your choice," Mark shrugged, and stepped towards Kyle. Ignoring his protests, he reached down, lifted Kyle up, and threw him over his shoulder. He turned and headed for his car, which was parked at the curb.

"What the fuck are you doing?! Let me go, you fucking asshole!" Kyle yelled, struggling to get away. He was so numb and fatigued from the cold that his flailing and kicking didn't make much of a difference at all.

Mark doggedly carried him to his car, threw the door open, and deposited Kyle in the front seat. In a smooth motion he closed the door, walked around the car and climbed behind the wheel. He'd left the car running so all he had to do was put it in drive and they were moving. Through a haze of shock and rage, Kyle saw him turn up the heat, flooding the car with warmth and taking some of the chill out of his body. Ripping his scarf off, Kyle turned to stare at him before he was able to think of something to say, and Mark's calm face only served to infuriate him more.

"I can't believe you just did that," he said, faintly. He was so angry he couldn't even yell. "I told you I didn't want a ride and you just, you just-" he broke off, unable to articulate his outrage.

"Kyle, you are too fucking stubborn for you own good," Mark replied, smoothly. Reaching over, he pointed one of his heating vents towards Kyle. "There, is that better?"

"You're not even listening to me!" Kyle exploded. "Pull over right now; I'm getting out." Desperately, he started to pull on the door handle

Mark placed a hand on Kyle's leg and squeezed gently. "Calm down, okay? I didn't want you to get sick out there so I did what I thought was best. I'm sorry, alright? I shouldn't have done that but, goddammit, you're so hard to reason with."

Kyle stared at Mark's hand on his leg for a moment, wanting to impale it. Crossing his arms, he looked out the window and sulked instead. On some level, he wanted to believe that Mark genuinely wanted to help him, but he couldn't just do whatever the fuck he wanted all the time, and he told him as such.

"I know, but you run so fucking hot and cold, Kyle," he replied, glancing in the rear view mirror at a truck that was switching lanes behind them. "I never know where I stand with you. Sometimes I feel like we're starting to get closer but then you withdraw and I try to help you and you just push me away. Or you just seem angry with me," he added. Slowing the car, he came to a stop at a red light in the middle of downtown.

"I am angry with you. You never listen to a damn word I say, and-" he stopped, not sure what to say next.

"And what?" Mark pressed.

"You just confuse me, and I hate it," Kyle said, looking down at his hands.

"Well, at least we're on the same page with something," Mark said. "Will you at least talk to me about it? We can go back to my place if you want." The light turned green and Mark accelerated smoothly.

Kyle glanced over at him, at his profile with the sloped, aristocratic nose and full lower lip; the high cheek bones fading into a severe jawline. Considering Mark's proposition, he suddenly felt so tired he just wanted to collapse. Finally, he sighed, feeling stupid and defeated and unbelievably wrung out.

"Fine, I guess. But don't even ask me if I'm going to drink or smoke with you, because the answer is going to be no."

"I figured that already," Mark replied as he steered the car towards Stark's Pond; his home waiting just beyond it.

"The tree turned out pretty well," Kyle said, sipping a cup of hot tea. "Rebecca came up with a good idea."

Mark set down his empty wine glass and sat back in his chair, his eyes focused on the tree that stood in front of the floor to ceiling windows. The white lights strung on its branches pushed back the darkness that had fallen outside, and glinted off the stags in their plethora of colors. It was easily 9 feet tall, but in the large living room it didn't come close to touching the ceiling, which soared high overhead. A multi-pointed milky glass star rested at the top, and it too gave off a warm glow.

"It's fine, I guess," Mark said. "Becky always did have an eye for decorating."

"Where is she, anyway?"

"Oh, I think she's over at Wendy's house. Wendy asked her if she'd be on the winter dance committee and they're having a brainstorming session tonight," he replied, indifferently. "I think a couple of the other girls are there too but I'm not sure, Becky didn't really give me too many details."

"That's surprising. I thought you guys told each other everything," Kyle commented, drinking his tea. His legs were finally beginning to thaw out and now they felt red and swollen, but thankfully the feeling had come back into his hands without too much incident.

"Becky hasn't been acting like herself lately. She's been in a pretty bad mood and I got tired of her biting my head off whenever I asked her any questions so I just stopped." He shrugged. "She'll come to me when she wants."

"Are you going to the dance?" Kyle asked, unable to imagine Mark attending a formal dance held in the school gym, with cheesy decorations everywhere.

Mark snorted. "Are you serious? No way. I haven't been to a school dance since that ridiculous Bay of Pigs fiasco a million years ago." He peered at Kyle. "I'm sure you remember that night in vivid detail."

"Yes, actually," Kyle replied, uneasily. "Let's not talk about that, okay?"

"I assume you and Stan are going to the dance together, right?"

Kyle shifted in his seat, feeling even more uncomfortable now. "Let's not talk about that either."

Mark's eyes brightened. "I thought you two were acting kind of weird the past couple of weeks. What happened?"

"Just drop it," Kyle snapped.

"Okay, fine. But your behavior right now is telling me pretty much everything I need to know anyway." Picking up the wine bottle on the coffee table, he poured some into his glass. "So, about what you said in the car, I confuse you? How?"

"I think it's pretty obvious, Mark," Kyle said, still irritated at the mention of Stan. "You are quite possibly one of the strangest people I have ever met in this town, and if you know South Park's history you'll know that that is an amazing feat."

"Is it really so strange to like someone and actually act on it?" Mark asked.

"You don't like me, Mark. You just like to terrorize me."

"Yeah, like I'd waste this kind of energy on someone I just want to terrorize," Mark scoffed. Pausing, he thought a moment. "Okay, maybe I would, but in this instance that's not the case."

"So, what's the deal?"

"I don't think what I'm doing is really strange, Kyle. I think you just feel weird for liking the things I do to you, so you're trying to deflect."

Kyle considered this for a moment. "Okay, maybe that's partially true, but I'm standing behind my assessment that you're fucking demented."

"That's just my cross to bear, I guess," he said. "So, you admit it then."

"Admit what?"

"You like what I do to you."

"Stop trying to coerce me into stroking your ego, Mark," Kyle said, setting his teacup down primly.

"Fair enough," he replied, draining his glass of wine. He set the glass down on the coffee table and stood, stretching his arms over his head. When he lowered them, his hands went directly to his belt buckle.

"What are you doing?" Kyle asked, watching Mark's hands; his eyebrows raised.

"Just taking off my belt, Kyle. What, can't I get comfortable at the end of a long day?" He pulled it off, and it hissed softly as it passed through the belt loops.

"Oh."

"What, did you think I was going to put it around your neck again? Christ, you are such a pervert."

"Are you serious right now? I wouldn't even be thinking about it if you hadn't wrapped the fucking thing around my neck in the first place," Kyle said.

"Oh, lighten up. I'm just playing with you. Hey, did you want to order food or something? I'm starving." He folded the belt and threw it on the coffee table. Sitting down, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. "My treat."

"Sure, okay," Kyle replied. "But I can pay for myself."

Mark groaned. "I'm sure you can, but I don't want to have to deal with splitting the bill onto two different cards; it's so annoying. Why don't you just let me pay this time and you can get the next one. Is that fair?"

"Fine, but what makes you think there will even be a next time?" Kyle was annoyed, and when he felt that way he became petulant.

Rolling his eyes, Mark started tapping something out on his phone. "So, what do you want? Chinese? Pizza? God, I wish there was a decent Indian place around here."

"Pizza's fine, I just don't want anything weird on mine like pineapple. I usually just have cheese."

"You want to have the most boring thing on the menu, got it. So let me see," Mark became quiet as he scrolled through his phone. After a few minutes, he looked up. "Okay, it's done. They should be here in half an hour or so."

"Well, thanks for letting me know you were ordering already," Kyle said. "I kind of wanted a salad, too."

"I knew you would, so I ordered one. Garden, right? No tomatoes?"

"How the hell did you know that?"

"Kyle, we go to the same school and we eat in the same cafeteria. I've heard you order in the lunch line and you get the same thing almost every time. You eat like some fussy little bird. No wonder you're so skinny."

"Quit calling me skinny," Kyle muttered.

"It's a compliment. I like you that way." Yawning, he leaned his head on his hand. "It certainly made it easier to throw you over my shoulder."

"Oh, my god," Kyle groaned. "Would you please shut up about that? I could be at home right now if you'd just back off."

"No one forced you to come over today, Kyle. I might have forced you into my car, but beyond that you're here by choice. How are you feeling? Have you warmed up?"

"Mostly, I guess. Now I just feel itchy."

"Weird. Did you want to get in the hot tub while we're waiting for your boring food?" Mark asked, smirking.

"I'm not going back outside, even if there is a hot tub. It's unbearable out there."

"We have a pool and hot tub inside the house, too." He looked around. "It's kind of a big place, after all."

Kyle considered this, but felt leery for obvious reasons. "I don't know."

"I'm not going to try anything, Kyle," Mark sighed. "Fine, do whatever you feel comfortable with." He stood and started walking out of the room.

"Wait, where are you going?" Kyle yelled, jumping up to follow him.

"Where do you think? I'm going to get in the hot tub." Mark replied without bothering to look back.

Less than 10 minutes later, Kyle found himself up to his chin in luxurious, bubbly water. Sitting across from him was Mark, his head leaned back in relaxation and the soft lighting in the pool area glinting off of his wet chest. The air around them was humid and Kyle reveled in the feeling of being completely enveloped in warmth. Mark had brought a bottle of water along with him and he took a languid sip; he offered it to Kyle who took it gratefully.

"It's weird seeing you drink something that isn't wine," he commented, handing the bottle back.

"Well, it's weird seeing you sitting in my hot tub wearing my swim trunks," Mark replied. "I hope the food gets here soon. I told Janice to let us know when it was delivered."

"Janice?" Kyle asked.

"Yeah, the housekeeper. You were in the bathroom when I spoke to her."

"Wait, someone else is in the house?" Kyle asked, sitting up so that his shoulders and chest rose above the water.

"Well, yeah, Kyle. She kind of works here sometimes. Why is that so alarming?"

"I don't know. It's just unsettling that your house is so large that there can be other people here and you don't even realize it." He thought a moment. "You call her Janice?"

"That's her name; what else would I call her?" Mark asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"It's just so," he groped for the right word. "Disrespectful, I guess? Calling an adult by their first name. I mean, your mom asked me to and I just couldn't. My parents are crazy about stuff like that."

"Well, aren't you obedient?" Mark asked, snickering. "Kyle, Janice is the housekeeper. I don't have any problem calling her by her first name."

"You are such a snob," Kyle said with distaste.

"No, I'm not. It's just always been this way, ever since I was little. She's been the housekeeper here for years, dude. She was here when my grandparents were still alive."

"Still, it just doesn't sound right."

"Maybe not to you," Mark said. "If she doesn't have a problem with it, I don't see what the big deal is." He wiped some sweat out of his eyes. "I thought getting in the hot tub would help you relax, but it appears you're just relentlessly uptight."

"I'm not trying to be," Kyle sighed. "It's just hard to let myself relax."

"That's why you need to get hammered, man."

"No," he said, abruptly. "I did that with you once before and look where it got me."

Mark laid his head back again and stared at the ceiling. "Christ, I give up."

"Oh, I'm sorry that my potentially being assaulted by you is ruining your good time, Mark. How thoughtless of me to bring that up. Can you ever forgive me?" Kyle asked.

"Are you ever going to fucking let that go?!" Mark suddenly yelled, startling Kyle. His head had snapped up and he was staring at him, his cheeks flushed from the hot tub but also from anger. Kyle had seen him become angry in the past but it was very unusual for him to raise his voice like this. "I already told you I didn't do anything!"

Kyle shrunk into himself, and sunk back into the water so that it was coming up to his chin. He stared at Mark with large eyes. Mark looked back at him and he was breathing heavily, the sound ragged but slightly muffled by the bubbling of the water. Taking a deep breath, Mark ran a hand through his hair, the moisture on it making his dark hair spiky.

"I know this is the elephant in the room every time we're together, Kyle, but I don't know what to say. What can I say, really? You think I've done this awful thing, and I really can't fight against something if you've already convinced yourself it's true. But, there's just one thing I don't get."

"What?" Kyle asked, softly. He was hugging his knees to his chest; protecting himself from Mark's rage.

"Why are you even here if you think I-" he broke off and rubbed his face with his hands. "If you think I raped you?" He pronounced the word like it was poison in his mouth. "Like, if you honestly think I'm capable of that, how can you stomach being in the same room with me, let alone sitting in a hot tub half naked together?"

Kyle looked down at himself through the water, at his distorted arms and out of focus legs, and he had no idea how to respond to Mark's question. He'd been trying to figure out the same thing in his own mind, but it was startling to have the question thrown at him by someone else; especially Mark. And to hear that word, that horrible ugly word, rape, out loud, made him want to vomit. He remembered the bruises all over his body and the visions that he couldn't distinguish between memories or dreams, and he just didn't know what to say. All of this had been weighing on him, on his shoulders, for so long that it was almost like he was saturated with it; it was to the point where he couldn't absorb anymore of the pain, but he couldn't continue to live with it either.

Before he knew it, he was crying, and he was looking at Mark through a haze of tears, and he too became distorted just like Kyle's body under the water; like the images in his brain that tormented him. Kyle's body was wracked with big, ugly sobs that took his breath away, and he was gasping for air, and he started to gag he was crying so hard. He sobbed until he'd been wrung out like a washcloth, and he felt arms around him, drawing him close, and he was pressing his head against Mark's strong chest, and he clung to him like he was the only thing that could keep him tethered to reality.

Kyle apologized to Mark through his tears, his words nonsensical and frenzied. He didn't want to carry around this load anymore. He just wanted to forget, he wanted to be free; he wanted to fly above the pain and regret and the devastation of losing himself and losing Stan. He wanted to give in to his base desires and just let go completely. Hungrily, he reached up and wrapped his arms around Mark's neck and he was kissing him, kissing him like it was the very first time; he wasn't holding anything back, determined to give him everything he hadn't before. He was straddling Mark's lap and their hot, wet bodies were melding together as their mouths met, and their tongues were tasting each other's desire.

Mark kissed him back with just as much intensity, but he finally pulled away and looked into Kyle's face, his eyes searching for answers. "Kyle, what are you doing? Do you even know what you want right now?"

"Yes," Kyle gasped, and he licked Mark's lips until they opened and his tongue was inside, tasting the wine and smoke that he had come to associate with Mark, only Mark; that dark, captivating taste that consumed him like fire. "I want this," he murmured in between kisses. "I need this. I need you." Vaguely, he was aware of Mark's erection pressing against his own, and he moved his body so that they were rubbing together, a delicious, mesmerizing friction growing between them.

"Kyle, stop," Mark moaned, holding Kyle tightly, his fingers pressing into his skin. "Please, I don't want to do it like this. I've been waiting so long for you; I want to take my time." He managed to push Kyle away and he turned, taking big gulps of air into his lungs like he had been drowning. Kyle watched him while gasping for air too, and he didn't feel like himself; in a savage part of his brain he was happy that he wasn't holding back anymore.

"Hello? Mark?" A voice carried across the room, and they stared at each other, their eyes wide and startled. The voice called out again and Mark finally got his bearings and answered.

"In here, Becky," he said, scooting back over to the other side of the tub. He looked at Kyle and his face seemed to be telling him to play it straight; to get some control over himself.

Rebecca walked into the room wearing a strawberry red bikini that was basically more string than fabric, her hair swept up into a messy bun and her feet bare. She was holding the pizza Mark had ordered as well as a bag, no doubt containing Kyle's salad. Her pace slowed slightly when she saw Kyle in the hot tub.

"Oh, hey, Kyle. I didn't know you were here, too," she smiled. She turned to put the food on a table and Kyle saw that the back of her bikini bottom was shaped like a heart, and it clung to her like a second skin, revealing full, curvy cheeks. A tiny green clover was tattooed on her right buttock. "Here's your food, guys," she said, and as she turned to face them, she noticed Mark's half empty wine glass on the table. "Mark, do you mind?" She pointed at the glass and he nodded.

"Go ahead," he replied, and he watched as his sister picked up the glass and then walked over to the hot tub. Leaning over, she set the glass down on the floor and Kyle was scandalized when one of her plump breasts almost fell out of her top. She adjusted herself carelessly as she stepped into the water, and lowered herself slowly, the bubbles frothing against her skin. Once she was seated, she reached for the glass and took a sip, and she leaned back, sighing.

"Mmm, this feels so good," she murmured, closing her eyes. "You guys definitely had the right idea; it's so cold outside that it's scary." Drowsily, she opened her eyes and glanced at her brother. "I seriously didn't miss Colorado winters, did you?"

"Not especially, no," he replied, his eyes focused on Kyle. "We were actually just about to get out," he added. "Weren't we, Kyle?"

Before Kyle could respond, Rebecca was leaning forward, her hand on her neck. "Oh, dammit, my hair got tangled in the string when I was tying my top. God, I hate when that happens and now it's pulling every time I move. Kyle, could you help me?" She looked at him and her cheeks were flushed from the heat; her hazel eyes bright.

"Uh, sure," Kyle replied, his voice tremulous.

"Oh, you're a doll. Here," she came over to him and turned around. Lifting up her hair she exposed her neck, and he could see that a brown tendril had become tangled up with the red string. "Can you get it?" She asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

Kyle's face was on fire as he inspected Rebecca's situation. "I think I'm actually going to have to undo the string," he finally said. "It's just too tangled up."

"Do what you have to," she replied, still holding her brown curls away from her neck. Even though she'd gathered her hair into a bun, long tendrils had escaped, refusing to be tamed. Mark was silent, watching with amusement as Kyle timidly reached up and gently tugged on Rebecca's bikini.

The knot was stubborn so Kyle pulled a little harder, and without warning it came undone and he was left holding one string while the other one fell, causing half of Rebecca's top to fall. For a moment they all watched as the wayward string floated on the surface of the water, until Rebecca reached out and plucked it up. Turning, she offered it to Kyle, seemingly undisturbed that her breast was on display. Idly, Kyle noticed that she had a beauty mark near the inside, where her cleavage would be if her large breasts had been pushed together. He was even more taken aback at the sight of a silver ring dangling from the hard, pink nipple.

"Earth to Kyle," Mark was saying as he came back to reality. "Are you going to help my sister cover her innocence or what?" He started laughing at Kyle's shocked face.

Rebecca was laughing too and she pulled her top up, covering herself. She draped the string over her shoulder, waiting for Kyle to wake up and take it. "It's almost like he's never seen boobs before," she said. "Why didn't you tell me how innocent Kyle is, Mark?"

Mark shrugged and grinned, still laughing as Kyle awkwardly brushed Rebecca's hair away and managed to tie her top; securing it with a lopsided bow. When he was done, Rebecca turned around and before he could react she had kissed him on the cheek, her lips soft and moist as they lingered there for a moment. She pulled back and her eyes were full of warmth.

"Kyle, you're too adorable for words. Thanks for helping a girl out." She drifted away from him and went to grab her drink, lifting herself out of the hot tub so she could sit on the edge. "I just can't stay in for very long before I start feeling dizzy," she explained, finishing off the rest of the wine in one gulp. Her bikini bottoms dipped low in the front, exposing another small tattoo near the top of her pubis in the shape of a star.

Mark reached over and laid a hand on her foot, looking up at her. "Do you need some water? Wine isn't going to help you if you're feeling dizzy."

She moved her foot away and shook her head. "No, I'm okay," she replied. "Besides, if I need anything I'll just ask Kyle to help me." She looked over at Kyle, her tone playful. "Is that okay with you?"

Kyle managed to nod, and Mark rolled his eyes.

"Just ignore her, Kyle. She's in one of her ridiculous moods." Placing his hands on the rim of the hot tub, he pulled himself up so he was sitting next to Rebecca. Reaching back, he grabbed a towel from a chair, stood up, and went over to Kyle. He held a hand out to him. Wordlessly, Kyle took it and rose from the water, and even though the air in the room was warm, he still shivered. Mark wrapped the towel around him and pulled him close, rubbing his skin dry.

"You look sleepy," he said.

Kyle nodded his head. "I feel a little tired."

"You probably need to eat." Mark turned to Rebecca. "Hey, did you want some pizza? I doubt we'll be able to eat that whole thing by ourselves."

Rebecca stood and adjusted her top, and Kyle couldn't help but notice the faint outlines of both of her nipple rings through the thin fabric. He looked away, having seen more than enough of Mark's sister for one day.

"Nah, that's okay. I ate over at Wendy's, but thanks." She went and grabbed a towel too, and Kyle was relieved when she wrapped it around herself.

"How did the meeting go, by the way?" Mark asked, opening the box of pizza and handing a slice to Kyle.

"It was fine, I guess. We're just arguing over the color scheme we're gonna go with," Rebecca replied. "I don't even care, honestly. I'm just worried that no one's going to invite me." She pouted.

Mark frowned. "Why would you want to go with any of the losers at that school, Becky? They're beneath you."

"Maybe so, but I still want to be asked. All of the other girls are going and I don't want to be left out." She wrapped another towel around her hair.

"I really don't think that's a good idea," Mark said. "I don't trust any of those guys to not try something with you. Like that idiot, Clyde? He definitely wanted to put the moves on you, and I would've had to snap his fucking neck."

"Relax, Mark. I can take care of myself, and besides, it's just a dance. I'm not buying a one way ticket to Sodom and Gomorrah." She patted his cheek and gave him a knowing look while gesturing at Kyle. "You have your fun, and I'll have mine, okay?"

Kyle flushed at her words and looked down at his pizza. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mark glaring at her but she was clearly nonplussed.

"I need to take a shower," she said. "I hate that feeling when chlorine sits on my skin for too long." She noticed Kyle looking up from his pizza and she waved. "See you later, Kyle. You too, Mark," she said, almost like he was an afterthought. Mark watched her leave, his face grim.

"She's fucking impossible," he said, grabbing another piece of pizza.

"I can't blame her for wanting to be asked to the dance," Kyle said. He'd finished his pizza and had opened his salad, making sure that there weren't any tomatoes.

"Don't be so naive, Kyle. She won't have any problem getting a date," Mark replied. "I mean, you've seen her assets with your own eyes. Do you really think those degenerates at school need more of a reason to ask her anywhere?"

"I guess not," Kyle stammered. He had to admit that from a certain perspective Rebecca had a great body, but he really couldn't speak for the straight guys at school; her curves really didn't do anything for him. Mark's long torso and muscular arms on the other hand, well, those were an entirely different story. Kyle could feel his earlier arousal start to rear its head again.

Mark was still agitated though. "I just know she's going to do something stupid and I'm going to have to save her. Why does she do shit like this? She drives me crazy!" He pushed the pizza box away in frustration.

Kyle just stayed silent, not sure what to say. Quietly, he finished his salad and waited for Mark's stormy mood to pass.

Mark ran a hand through his hair and looked at Kyle after fuming for a few minutes; he raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"So?" He finally asked.

"So?" Kyle parroted, confused.

"Are you ready?" Mark looked at him, his eyes and expression full of a dark, hidden meaning, and Kyle could feel his heartbeat speeding up.

"I think so," he replied, but he wasn't sure now.

"No, Kyle. I don't want you to have to think about it. Are you ready or not? Answer me."

Kyle wrapped the towel more tightly about himself and he nodded, suddenly feeling too shy to look directly at Mark; his eyes shifting to focus on the floor. Mark came into his line of sight and he felt his hand coming to rest on his chin and lifting his face. Mark kissed his upturned lips; and the touch was almost chaste.

"Follow me," he said.

Feeling like he was caught in the web of a dream, Kyle allowed Mark to lead him along the familiar path to his room; up a winding stair and down the same hallway, dusty portraits of dead relatives smiling blankly from the walls; chastising them as they passed. They stepped into Mark's room and this time Kyle could hear the soft click as the door was being locked behind him. He stood waiting until he felt Mark's hand sliding along the back of his neck, and he turned to face him.

"I need you to answer a few questions before we start, okay?" He asked.

Kyle nodded, holding the towel around his body; shielding himself.

"I'm not new at this, Kyle, but I know that you are, so," he stopped, clearing his throat. "I need to know how you want this to play out."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for starters, what have you already done?"

Kyle hesitated. He really didn't want to discuss the things he'd done with Stan with Mark. It just felt wrong; like a betrayal. Not that he was really new to betrayal, he thought, feeling guilty.

"Kyle?" Mark asked.

"This is really hard for me to talk about," Kyle finally said. "It doesn't seem fair to Stan."

"Your loyalty to him is really heartwarming, Kyle, but you're kind of doing yourself a disservice by not being upfront about what you've done, what you want, what you don't want, etc."

"Okay, fine. Stan and I have kissed and he's, um, done things to my-," he gestured to his genital region. "You know, to my swimsuit area."

"Kyle, this really isn't going to work if you can't at least name your body parts. I'm not asking you to be clinical here, just call it your cock or whatever."

"Mark, that word is filthy," Kyle said.

"What we're getting ready to do is filthy. We should at least be able to talk about it if we're going to do it." Mark said, his voice exasperated. "Come on, let's sit down and just talk. Is that okay?"

Kyle nodded, and he allowed Mark to steer him over to his bed where he sat, still holding the towel around himself. Mark sat beside him, still in just his damp swim trunks; his hair becoming wavy from the lingering moisture.

"So, Stan has done things to your cock, right?" He asked.

Kyle winced. "Mark, please."

"I'm going to say the word, Kyle. Deal with it. So, what has he done; sucked you off, gave you a handy, what?"

"Jesus, you are so crude," Kyle said, turning his face away in a huff. "Fine," he said, refusing to look at Mark as he spoke. "He rubbed me there."

"And you came, right?"

Kyle nodded, his face burning.

"Okay, did you do that to him, too?"

Kyle shook his head.

"God, you're green. But that's fine, there's a first time for everything, right? I mean, you've already tried breath play so you're more experienced than you realize. Just the fact that you were willing to let me do that shows that you're not as reserved as you think you are."

"Are we going to do that again?"

"What, breath play? Do you want to?"

Kyle looked down at his hands shyly. "Yeah, I think so."

"Ooh, someone's becoming a freak!" Mark said, laughing. "Kyle, I'm pretty much open to anything you want to try. Within reason, of course. Honestly, I owe you an apology, I should've asked you before I just wrapped my belt around your neck, but you're just so fucking enticing. That's no excuse, but I just wanted to see you under my complete control." He peered at him. "Does that bother you?"

"No, it actually makes sense. You've already made it pretty clear that you like to be the one making the decisions."

"Am I that transparent?" Mark grinned. "Okay, so you're open to me kind of taking the lead here?"

"I think so," Kyle replied, slowly. "Just as long as you don't do anything super crazy before I'm ready."

"That's fair. But how much control do you want me to have? Like, are you suggesting a dom/sub thing here?"

Kyle looked at him, puzzled. "Dom/sub?"

"Yeah, dominant and submissive roleplay. As the dom I take full control of the situation, and as a submissive, well, you pretty much need to carry on with what you've been doing." He smiled. "You do need to curb your smart mouth a little bit, though."

"Good luck with that," Kyle said, rolling his eyes.

"See? That right there would be worth a smack on the ass."

Kyle considered this proposition. "How do you know about this stuff?" He asked, trying to buy some time, and also from genuine curiosity. Mark seemed to be full of bizarre surprises.

"I just kind of fell into it," Mark replied, vaguely. "I know people who are into it, and it just seemed to fall in line with my personality. The domination aspect of it does, at any rate."

"Why doesn't that surprise me? I know I've asked this before, but who have you done this with?"

Mark looked at him with a passive expression. "Why does that matter?"

"Hey, you're basically grilling me about my sexual history. Turnabout is fair play, isn't it?" Kyle raised his chin haughtily. "Besides, it's kind of strange that you're into this at all; you're just a teenager."

"You really shouldn't sell yourself and others short because of their age, Kyle. Doesn't it annoy you when adults do that? I'm young but that doesn't change my experiences." He crossed his arms. "Look, I made some friends when we lived in Maryland, and it was through them that I was introduced to all of this."

"But Rebecca said you don't have any friends," Kyle said, wincing after the words left his mouth. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound like a dick."

"It's fine. Becky's right; I don't really have any friends at the moment, but I did then. Becky hung out with this group, too. In fact, she introduced me to them; she was worried that I was lonely." He rolled his eyes. "Why she would think I was lonely I have no idea. If I need people I seek them out. Otherwise, it's really not a huge concern of mine."

"How did she get mixed up with people like that?"

"Becky has her ways. Really, you're to blame for everything now that I think of it."

"What? Me? What'd I do?" Kyle asked, his eyes wide.

"You're the one who turned her into a raging deviant, Kyle, or did you conveniently forget about that?"

Kyle lay back on the bed in annoyance, hardly able to believe that all of this nonsense was being laid at his doorstep. "You've got to be fucking kidding me. You're really going to blame all of this on me because I kissed your sister when we were 8? You're really reaching right now."

"She's never been the same, honestly. Becky's wild and impulsive, and for awhile I tried to be the voice of reason, but eventually I gave into some of my own compulsions." He lay back as well, stretching out alongside Kyle. "I've been with guys and girls, Kyle, but they didn't mean anything; I just enjoyed taking chances and experimenting."

"You didn't care about any of them?"

Mark became quiet, thinking. "I did," he said, softly. "Actually, I still do. But that's a completely different story and I can't even start talking about that yet."

"Do you care about me?" Kyle asked. He stared at the ceiling, feeling awkward and stupid for asking Mark a question like that.

Mark reached out and smoothed the hair off of Kyle's forehead. "You interest me in a way I'm not used to. Usually I can take people or leave them, but I actually want to put effort into being around you. It's bizarre. Why? Would you say you care about me?"

"This is stupid, but I can't get you out of my head. I catch myself thinking about you and being confused by the things you say and do. You seriously piss me off and I know I should probably stay away from you, but I just keep running back to you. It doesn't make any sense." Kyle admitted. He turned his face towards Mark, who was still running his fingers through his hair.

"I feel like we've really gotten off topic here," Mark murmured, and he smiled. "So, what do you want to do?"

"I want to start out slow," Kyle replied. "But I'm willing to let you call the shots."

"Okay, I think I can work with that."

"Should we take a shower or something?"

Mark responded by leaning over and kissing Kyle on the lips softly. "Why? I think you're fine like this."

"Well, if you say so," Kyle said. "Sorry, I guess I'm just nervous."

"I can give you something to help with that, if you want."

"Like what?" Kyle sat up, feeling uneasy at the prospect of taking anything. He'd decided to throw caution to the wind and stop agonizing about the unknown parts of his history with Mark, but he didn't want to make a decision he'd regret either. But what difference did it make? He always ended up regretting and second guessing himself no matter what he did; especially when it came to Mark. Maybe it didn't matter if Mark gave him anything, Kyle was already intoxicated by him.

"I have some Klonopin you can take. It'll help with your anxiety but it's pretty tame, all things considered."

"Why do you have that? And don't you have Xanax, too?"

Mark shrugged. "I have my own issues just like anybody else, Kyle. So, what do you say?"

"Sure, why not? I've already come this far; I might as well go all the way."

Mark stood and went into the bathroom. When he returned he walked over to his desk and opened a bottom drawer where he pulled out a bottle of Knob Creek and a shot glass. He poured a shot of whiskey into the glass and carried it over to Kyle, his other hand clenched into a fist at his side.

"Open your mouth," he said.

"What?" Kyle asked, surprised.

"You heard me. Open your mouth."

Kyle looked at him for a moment feeling a little confused, but when he saw how serious Mark's face was he knew that he wasn't kidding. Slowly, he opened his mouth and waited.

Mark placed something on his tongue and for a moment his finger lingered on Kyle's lower lip. He pulled his hand away and Kyle could taste the bitterness on his tongue; could feel the pill Mark had left there beginning to dissolve.

Mark held out the shot glass. "Drink," he said, simply.

For a moment, Kyle resisted but then the pill was filling his mouth completely with its awful bitterness, and he reached for the glass and drank quickly. The whiskey burned through him and he almost gasped. Mark leaned down and kissed his lips.

"You should start feeling that pretty quickly," he said, straightening up.

"Probably. I didn't really have that much to eat," Kyle replied. "I wasn't very hungry."

"Fussy little bird," Mark smirked. He poured another shot of whiskey and knocked it back, grimacing. Looking around, he frowned. "It's too bright in here." He went to the light switch and flipped it off, plunging the room into semi-darkness; the fish tank in the corner throwing off a murky glow. Kyle noticed a small lamp on the bedside table, and it too was illuminated but its light was weak.

"Can I at least freshen up just a little?" Kyle asked, timidly. His skin was sticky from the hot tub and it was a sensation he could barely stand.

"I guess so," Mark replied. "It'll give that Klonopin a little extra time to kick in. Just don't take too long."

"I won't." Kyle rose from the bed, already feeling slightly woozy from the whiskey sloshing around in his almost empty stomach. Now he kind of regretted picking at his food the way he had. He managed to make it to the bathroom and closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment. Across the room he caught sight of his reflection in the large mirror and he studied it; his large eyes and messy hair. He was surprised to see that he didn't look any different, even though he'd pretty much made the decision to sleep with Mark that night.

Fleeting thoughts of Stan rose in his mind but he pushed them away. He'd always assumed that he'd lose his virginity with him, but now he wasn't sure if that was the best idea. He knew that his first time was going to be messy and awkward, and he was most likely going to make a fool of himself, so didn't it make more sense to do it with someone he didn't necessarily love? There was also the primal searing heat that drew him to Mark no matter how hard he resisted, and he was excited at the prospect of giving himself to him, even though thoughts of Stan made him want to cry. On this particular night he decided to give into what his body wanted, and that meant overriding his tender, foolish heart.

He went to the sink and splashed his face with cool water, rubbing away the chlorine and sweat. Wetting a washcloth, he rubbed the back of his neck and his chest, and then moved to his arms and his stomach. He stared resentfully at his skinny frame, at the rib bones pressing against his skin and his prominent clavicle. Kyle hated being delicate and hoped that Mark wouldn't be repulsed by the sharp angles of his body. He'd said that he'd liked Kyle's body in the past, but how could he tell if he was telling the truth or mocking him?

Kyle rubbed his skin until it was pink and by the time he was done he started to feel a little off. He was finding it hard to move without almost falling, and he had to catch himself on the counter to steady himself. His head felt heavy and his brain was fuzzy; is this what Klonopin did to you? A faint sense of euphoria was growing at the edges of his brain, and the little thoughts that nagged at him and made him worry started to fade away.

Opening the bathroom door, he lingered in the doorway and waited for Mark to notice him, and he could feel a goofy smile pulling at his mouth. Mark had been sitting on the bed scrolling through his phone when he looked over and saw Kyle, and he set his phone aside. Standing, he came over to Kyle and put a hand on his hip.

"How are you feeling? Better?" He asked.

Kyle fell into his arms and giddily started kissing Mark's throat, his head spinning. His thoughts were becoming a haze and he didn't care; he just wanted to keep floating and tasting Mark's skin. He licked Mark's neck, dragging his tongue down and along his collar bone.

"I'll take that as a yes," Mark said, softly. "Come on."

Taking Kyle's hand, he led him to the bed where he instructed him to lie down. Kyle lay against the pillows, reveling in their softness, and was aware of the mattress sinking down beside him as Mark knelt on it. Suddenly, Mark was straddling him and Kyle could barely make out his face in the muted light emitted from the bedside lamp and fish tank; but he could feel Mark grasping his wrists and drawing them upward and above his head. Holding them tightly in both hands, Mark began to tease Kyle with his tongue until he was almost in agony; licking along his jaw and down his neck and even in the small indention in between Kyle's collar bones. Abruptly, he stopped licking and he was kissing Kyle's nipples, and he almost cried out when Mark's teeth nipped at the tender erect flesh.

"Please," he gasped, and he tried to fight against Mark's grip on his wrists.

Mark responded by dropping one of his hands, the other one more than capable of holding both of Kyle's slender wrists at once. He gripped Kyle's face, forcing Kyle to listen as he spoke softly.

"I know you're new to this, Kyle, and I know I promised that we'd start out slow, but you can't fight me like this, okay?" He became silent for a moment. "Here, I know what will help." His hold on Kyle's face tightened. "Stay still until I come back."

Kyle nodded, and now he was really floating; his head filling up with a pleasant softness that made it easier to obey. In his hazy state he only wanted to please Mark; to follow his commands. Mark released his wrists and Kyle could vaguely hear him walking away and then he heard a drawer open and shut. Time skipped forward and Mark was back, and Kyle felt a coldness lock around one wrist and his arm was being lifted and secured so that he couldn't move it. Before he could ask what was happening, the same icy sensation had wrapped itself around his other wrist and it too was being drawn up and secured.

He managed to lift his fuzzy, heavy head to see what was holding him tight and he saw the bedside light glinting off of two sets of silver handcuffs; each wrist had been locked into place on the corners of the headboard behind him. Giggling, Kyle tried to pull his arms down, thinking that Mark was somehow playing a joke on him but the handcuffs merely strained against the ornate wooden headboard, and he knew that this was real. Kyle pulled again but he was trapped, and a faint wisp of fear came to life inside of him.

"You can pull all you want, Kyle," Mark said, softly. "You won't be going anywhere."

Kyle could only whimper and he arched his back, trying in vain to free himself. Closing his eyes, he tried to steady himself and get control of his ragged breaths, and he could hear his heart pounding a frenzied staccato in his ears. Once again, he could feel Mark's hands sliding over his skin, and he melted under that aggressive touch; at the incessant need he had inside to be claimed even though he was afraid. Mark stroked Kyle's cheek and kissed him deeply, and Kyle eagerly met his tongue with his own when it slid between his lips. Mark kissed his mouth like he was a glass of rich red wine, and every moment his lips lingered there he became drunk with Kyle's flavor.

Through a haze of kisses and Mark biting at his neck with little nips, Kyle could feel a hand snaking down his belly and under the waistband of the swim trunks he was still wearing. Recklessly, he twisted his body away but Mark pushed him back down, and his hand continued its journey until it rested on a part of Kyle that not even Stan had touched with his bare hand. Turning his face away, he could barely stand the sensation of having Mark touch him there, and he could feel himself becoming aroused; almost painfully so. Involuntarily, he moaned, and the sound was like the most secret part of his desire becoming real and undeniable.

Mark rubbed the shaft of Kyle's cock until he was hard and begging for release, but Mark placed a finger on Kyle's lips and he told him no, not yet; it was too soon. He took his hand away and Kyle lifted his hips, silently begging him to keep going, but instead, Mark reached up and hooked his fingers in the waistband of Kyle's shorts and slowly pulled them down. Kyle could feel them being drawn down over his hips and along his thighs until finally they'd been removed completely, and he was naked in front of Mark; without even the ability to use his hands to cover himself.

Running his hands over Kyle's hip bones, Mark caressed the sensitive, tender skin of Kyle's inner thighs and slowly pushed his legs apart. Weakly, Kyle tried to stop him, but Mark easily spread his legs despite Kyle's ineffectual protests.

"So, has Stan ever done this?" Mark asked, and before Kyle could respond he felt Mark's mouth sliding over his cock and he convulsed, pulling against the handcuffs and their metallic scraping against the headboard filled the room. Moaning, Kyle tried to shut his legs but Mark pushed them open, his strong hands kneading the taught flesh as he sucked on Kyle, drawing him in and out of his mouth; and his wet tongue was sliding and swirling over the head. Gasping, Kyle began to pant as the delicious friction created by Mark's mouth started building up until he was sure he was going to explode.

Kyle was on the cusp of coming when Mark drew back and stopped. He was still gripping Kyle's thighs and his thumbs were rubbing the sensitive skin there, but he left Kyle whimpering and straining against the handcuffs; arching his hips and lifting his pelvis; wordlessly begging Mark to end his torment.

"Tell me what you want, Kyle," Mark said, and he kissed along Kyle's inner thighs; lapping gently with his tongue at his scrotum.

"I want you to keep going!" Kyle gasped and his head lolled on the pillow. His head was a mixture of fog and torment and desperate need, and he could feel drool escaping from the corner of his mouth. "Please," he begged, and he didn't care how pathetic he sounded.

"Tell me you want to come and I'll take care of you," Mark said, and his tongue lingered for an agonizing moment on the tip of Kyle's cock; lapping up the pre-cum glistening there.

"I want to come!" Kyle yelled.

Mark answered by taking Kyle fully into his mouth, and Kyle could feel his cock brushing against the back of Mark's throat and he almost exploded there and then, but Mark was pulling back and Kyle was lost in a feverish agony that consumed his entire body. He lifted his hips again, trying to force himself into Mark's mouth but Mark regained control by gripping Kyle's hips and setting the pace. His tongue ran along the bottom of Kyle's cock and he shivered, and then Mark's fingers were biting into the skin of Kyle's hips and he was pulling Kyle into his mouth over and over until finally Kyle came and it was a sensation that took his breath away; and for a moment he thought he was going to pass out. Kyle's orgasm burned through him in dizzying waves that rocked his body and he was aware that he was moaning low in his throat. Vaguely he could feel himself continuing to come, and Mark was lapping it up and swallowing it, his hands still holding Kyle's hips; and somewhere in his haze Kyle knew that he would have bruises on his skin in the morning from Mark's fingertips.

Finally, Kyle was spent and he felt his entire body dissolve in an overwhelming fatigue. He lay back against the pillows and gasped for air, and his brain was awash with a rosy darkness that he wouldn't mind getting lost in forever. He closed his eyes as he tried to get control of his wildly beating heart, and he could feel Mark crawling across him and coming to rest on his chest. Mark's lips settled on his mouth and he could taste himself there and he was overcome by how erotic that was; tasting his come on somebody's else's tongue as it pushed into his mouth.

"You do know we aren't done, right?" Mark murmured. Kyle could only moan in response and he pulled against the handcuffs, even though he knew it was a useless endeavor. His legs were still spread apart and he could feel Mark's fingers stroking his cock again, but then they were drifting down and over his scrotum until they finally settled on his anus. Kyle's eyes shot wide open even through his fatigue he managed to fight and pull against his restraints.

Mark continued to touch him there, his finger swirling around but not entering Kyle. He took his hand away and there was enough light in the room for Kyle to see Mark bring his fingers to his mouth and lick them. Once they were slick with his saliva, he brought them back to Kyle's most secret place, and he caressed the area, and Kyle could feel the slick moisture on Mark's fingers. Slowly, Mark slid a finger inside of Kyle and Kyle moaned and tried to pull away; somehow feeling more exposed and vulnerable with this invasion than Mark wrapping his mouth around his cock. Mark soothed him with a tender kiss on Kyle's panting mouth as he continued to delve inside of him, and Kyle moaned despite himself.

With agonizing slowness and care, Mark slid a second finger inside of Kyle; opening him up and readying him for more. Kyle turned his face away and rested it on his arm, and drool slid from his mouth and onto his skin. He'd never felt so open and full, and while he was humiliated at the idea of Mark having his fingers inside of him, he found himself becoming hard again, and threads of ecstasy swam through his bloodstream until he wanted to cry. The culmination of the Klonopin, the whiskey, Mark's finger's, the vulnerability of being handcuffed and helpless almost overtook him to the point where he was rendered incoherent.

Finally, he was sobbing and begging Mark to hurry, but Mark was still sliding his fingers (three of them now) in and out of Kyle with a languidness that was almost savage but without warning, he stopped, and his fingers withdrew.

"Do you want me to continue?" Mark asked.

"Yes," Kyle said, and he almost didn't recognize his desire-drenched voice; what was he becoming. "Please, keep going."

"Here, then," Mark said, and he placed his open palm against Kyle's mouth. "Lick my hand until I tell you to stop."

Obediently, Kyle licked Mark's hand until he told him that was enough, and he could taste himself on Mark's hand too; his flavor was all over Mark's flesh and the thought drenched his mind with arousal. He was able to lift his head enough to see that Mark had removed his own swim trunks and he was rubbing Kyle's saliva all over his own erection.

Knowing what was about to happen, Kyle closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the pillows. He could feel Mark lifting his legs and parting them, and he could feel his bent legs resting on Mark's forearms. There was a warm pressure pushing against the area that Mark had so slowly prepared and then he felt Mark entering him with careful little thrusts; each one more agonizing than the last. The fullness of having Mark inside him took his breath away and Kyle moaned a guttural sound deep in his throat. Suddenly he was nothing but a sexual being, comprised solely of heat and sweat and this aching stretching sensation that threatened to undo him completely.

Mark was moving above him now and his grunts as he thrust into Kyle made him become completely hard again. Kyle wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around Mark's long back but the sensation of being completely at his mercy and pinned to the headboard was undeniably breathtaking. Mark lifted Kyle's legs over his shoulders and suddenly he was so deep inside Kyle that he was writhing from the hot, steady strokes that were starting to come faster and faster now. Mark leaned down and kissed Kyle's mouth savagely, and the overwhelming heat and friction that had grown between them finally boiled over, and Mark was gasping against Kyle's mouth as he came. He rocked inside of Kyle in delicious, hard strokes and Kyle could feel a wet heat filling him, and Mark was kissing him again, and as he finished he bit Kyle's lip, and he could taste warm blood spreading over his tongue.

Mark collapsed on top of him and Kyle could only press back into the pillows, blood dripping down his chin and sweat covering his body; he could only assume it was a combination of his own and Mark's. Exhaustion gripped his body in its fist but it was a pleasant sensation; his muscles were burning from being stretched and tested.

Mark reached up and licked some of the blood off of Kyle's lip and lapped it away from his chin. He rested his head against Kyle's trembling chest and he kissed the skin there.

"So, I guess this means you're mine now, huh?" He asked, and Kyle could feel Mark's mouth curving into a smile against his flesh. Before he could respond, Kyle was being drawn away into a kind of comforting darkness, and before he knew it, he was free-falling into a swirling oblivion; an event horizon that consumed his mind and body completely.


	11. Chapter 11

Notes: Okay, I guess I lied. I'm just a giant pervert, you guys, lmao.

 **I feel your fingers-**  
 **Cold on my shoulder-**  
 **Your chilling touch,**  
 **As it runs down my spine-**  
 **Watching your eyes**  
 **As they invade my soul-**  
 **Forbidden pleasures**  
 **I'm afraid to make mine.**

 **At the touch of your hand-**  
 **At the sound of your voice-**  
 **At the moment your eyes meet mine**  
 **I am out of my mind-**  
 **I am out of control-**  
 **Full of feelings I can't define,**

 **It's a sin with no name-**

 **Like a hand in a flame-**

 **And our senses proclaim**  
 **It's a dangerous game...**

 **A darker dream**  
 **That has no ending-**  
 **That's so unreal**  
 **You believe that it's true.**  
 **A dance of death-**  
 **Out of a mystery tale-**  
 **The frightened princess**  
 **Doesn't know what to do...**

 **-Dangerous Game from Jekyll and Hyde**

When Kyle came to, the room was still mostly dark save for the small bedside lamp and the fish tank frothing softly. He felt groggy and slow as he looked around, but he was also filled with a lazy tranquility. He'd been released from the handcuffs and he was covered by Mark's navy blue comforter, but when he lifted back the blanket he saw that he was still naked. Looking over, Mark was asleep beside him. The way he was stretched out on his side made him look like a snoozing, satisfied lion; one hand curled next to his face.

Sitting up, Kyle touched his wrists idly, where the skin was tender from rubbing against the cuffs. His head was still heavy and he was awash with weariness, but he managed to slide his legs over the edge of the bed and he stood. Taking a cautious step, his legs were weak but they held his weight and he managed to make it to the bathroom. Ignoring the mirror this time, he urinated and the sound seemed too loud in the silent room, and suddenly he was acutely aware that it was the middle of the night and that he was naked in Mark's home and they had had sex. The thought crashed in on him like a freight train, and the weight of it took his breath away.

Washing his hands, he looked up and caught flashes of his body in the mirror but he refused to look at his face. In the soft glow of the bathroom he saw faint red streaks on his wrists. He flushed at the memory of being restrained, of being at the mercy of Mark's whims, and he could feel ghostly hands rubbing his skin; light kisses being pressed on the insides of his thighs. He was slowly waking up now, and vague aches were present in new places; a throbbing in his arms and on his hips. The most profound ache came from a place that Kyle didn't even want to consider, and he could remember Mark claiming him with those hard, determined thrusts.

He washed the rest of his body, blushing at the act of wiping away the traces of Mark that had been left behind. He wanted to take a shower but he didn't want to run the risk of waking up Mark; especially when Kyle really felt like being alone for awhile. He slipped the boxers on that he'd folded and set aside when changing into Mark's swim trunks, but opted not to put on his discarded polo shirt. Stepping out of the bathroom, he tiptoed across the room and pulled one of Mark's tshirts from his dresser drawer and put it on. He figured borrowing a shirt wasn't a huge deal considering Mark had been inside him less than a few hours before.

Glancing over, he saw that Mark was still fast asleep; his soft breaths stealing across the room with every rise and fall of his naked chest. Kyle still felt weary, but his mind was an alert animal, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep even if he tried. Not wanting to disturb Mark, he quietly left the room, deciding he would go down to the kitchen or living room to collect his thoughts. He'd grabbed his phone from his pant's pocket and carried it with him, wondering if maybe Stan had texted him after getting off work.

He descended the staircase and was surprised to see soft light emanating from the kitchen when he got to the bottom. Entering the room, he saw a tea pot and two cups sitting on the counter, but there was no one there. The clock over the stove flashed red and he could see that it was after 3 am. He continued on into the living room, where he was startled to see Rebecca laying on the couch, dressed in her white robe and her curly hair down and wild. The Christmas tree was illuminated and it cast its pearly light across her face, making it clear that she was surprised to see Kyle too.

"Kyle?" She asked, sitting up. "I didn't know you were spending the night." Rebecca curled her legs underneath herself while tucking her robe around her. "Come sit with me, I could use some company." She patted the place beside her on the couch and smiled, beckoning to him.

Feeling shy, Kyle was reluctant to join her, afraid that she'd be able to tell that he'd just slept with her brother, but he inwardly chastised himself for being so paranoid.

No one gives a shit about your sex life; get over yourself, he thought. Making his way over, he sat beside her on the couch and saw that a small fire was burning in the fireplace; the orange and yellow flames in the process of dying down. How long had Rebecca been down here by herself?

"Mom got home just a little while ago," Rebecca said, almost like she could read Kyle's thoughts. "We had some tea and she told me about her day. Sometimes it feels like I get to see her as much as my father; which is, of course, never." She laughed a little. "I can't fault her, though. At least she's trying to do the right thing and help people." Her voice was soft and laced with a small touch of sadness. Looking at Kyle, she put a hand on his leg gently. "So, I'm guessing you couldn't sleep."

Kyle nodded.

"Do you want some tea? I think there's still some left."

"No, thanks. I'm okay, I think," Kyle replied.

"I'm sure Mark's sleeping like the dead," she said. "He's never had a problem with that; he can pretty much drift off and sleep through anything."

"Yeah, he didn't even move when I got up and used the bathroom," Kyle replied, and he smirked. "He's sleeping the sleep of the innocent up there."

Rebecca laughed. "I've heard many words used to describe Mark but innocent has never been one of them. I think he sleeps soundly because he doesn't let things bother him. If he decides to do something he's fine with it, and if other people have a problem with it, well," she shrugged. "Fuck 'em, right?"

"I don't think I have the ability to be quite so cavalier," Kyle said.

"So, were you two burning the midnight oil up there?" Rebecca asked, as she lifted her hair from her neck and held it up. She raised an eyebrow.

"I guess you could say that," he replied, shifting a little. The aches in his body were making it hard for him to get comfortable.

"Hey, what happened to your mouth?" Leaning forward, Rebecca looked closely at Kyle's face, her eyes narrowed. "Did you bite your lip? It has a cut."

Kyle reached up and touched his mouth, remembering how Mark had bit it as he came, and how he'd licked up the blood. His mind strayed to something Mark had said when they'd finished, right before Kyle had fallen asleep: "I guess you're mine now, right?" He almost shivered at the way Mark had asked that question; like it was just a formality and he already knew the truth anyway.

"Kyle? Kyle, are you okay?" Rebecca was asking, bringing him back to himself.

"Yeah, sorry. I feel a little out of it."

"I can tell." She glanced at him. "Did Mark give you something to help you sleep?"

Kyle nodded. "Yeah, I was feeling a little anxious." He shrugged. "I'm naturally high-strung, I guess."

"You don't say." She became quiet, her face pensive. Minutes passed as they sat there in silence, lost in a brown study.

"It's nice that Mark finally made a friend here," she said, breaking into Kyle's thoughts. Something in Rebecca's voice made Kyle wonder if she actually meant what she said. "It's always been us against the world for the longest time."

"He made it sound like you two have kind of been at odds lately," he ventured to say, hoping he wasn't stepping over a line.

She sighed. "It's been rough the past few weeks. My father has really been jerking me around and mom is working even more than she normally does. I guess I've been lashing out because I'm kind of lonely here." Standing up, she went and adjusted one of the ornaments on the tree. "I mean, I want to be happy that Mark and you became friends, but I can't help feeling a little left out. Isn't that stupid?"

Kyle shook his head. "Not at all. I think it makes perfect sense."

Rebecca went and sat in front of the fireplace, with her back against the flames. With the light behind her her brown curls glowed richly, but her face was partially in shadow. "I'm finally making friends with Wendy and the other girls, but Mark makes it so hard for me get out on my own and talk to people; especially guys."

"I guess he just wants to protect you," Kyle replied. "At least, that's how he made it seem to me. He doesn't want you to get hurt."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what he wanted you to think," she said. "But, believe me, Mark's motivations aren't that cut and dry, and I wouldn't even know how to start explaining them to you." She sighed. "What makes it worse is that I'm kept in a cage but he gets to-" she stopped, and with her face in shadow it was hard for Kyle to make out her expression. He waited for her to continue, but she was quiet for a time.

"Can I ask you something?" She asked.

"Sure," Kyle said, her tone making him a little nervous.

"What's your relationship with my brother, Kyle? Like, are you guys just friends, or what?"

Kyle's heart started thudding rapidly at her question, and he groped for an answer. What was his relationship with Mark? They certainly weren't dating, at least, he didn't think they were. Kyle didn't even know if he'd classify them as friends. These thoughts were very unsettling considering Mark had just taken his virginity, and what was more disturbing was the fact that Kyle couldn't wait to do more with him.

He shrugged helplessly. "I honestly don't know how to answer that question."

"What do you mean?" Now Rebecca's voice had an edge to it. "Either you're friends or you're more than that, so which is it?"

Suddenly, Mark walked into the room wearing a pair of boxers; his hair disheveled. Yawning, he stared at them.

"What the hell are you guys doing up? It's the middle of the night."

"We couldn't sleep so we were just talking," Rebecca replied.

"What is there to talk about at 3 am?" He asked, going to sit in his customary wingback chair. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced at Kyle and grinned.

"I have a shirt just like that," he teased.

"Well, I didn't want to put my polo back on," Kyle explained, lamely.

"Why couldn't you sleep?" Mark asked, looking at Rebecca.

"I have a lot on my mind," she said.

"Can I help?" He asked, yawning again.

"No, I don't think you can," she said, coolly. She sat a moment but she couldn't seem to keep still, and she fidgeted in her seat, clearly agitated at Mark's sudden presence. "Actually, I'm starting to feel tired," she finally announced, and she stood. "I'm going to call it a night. 'Night."

She stood and left the room, leaving Kyle and Mark to stare after her.

"Well, that was abrupt," Mark said. "What were you two talking about anyway?"

"She wanted to know what kind of relationship we have," Kyle replied, feeling uncomfortable.

A strange look passed over Mark's face at Kyle's words. "What did you tell her?"

"I didn't tell her anything, Mark. I have no idea what the hell our relationship is. Do you?" He countered.

"I'm not even there yet, Kyle," Mark replied. "Can you at least let me wake up a little bit here? I'm kind of tired from deflowering you earlier."

"Can you please not say things like that? This is already embarrassing enough," Kyle said, covering his face with his hand.

"What's embarrassing about any of this? We had sex, it was great. Get over it." Mark put his hand on his chest and his face filled with mock horror. "Unless you're telling me that the earth didn't move for you too?"

"Okay, now I know you're just fucking with me so knock it off," Kyle snapped.

"Actually, I do want to make sure you're okay, Kyle," Mark replied, his face serious now. "I mean, it was your first time and that's pretty important. How are you feeling?"

Kyle blushed. "I feel fine, I guess. I mean, I'm a little sore but I figured that was just part of the process or whatever," he rubbed his wrists. The red streaks were becoming darker, with little hints of violet threading their way across his skin.

Mark watched him. "Sorry about that. I'm not really a fan of those ridiculous handcuffs with the fabric or feathers on them. Those are actually police grade." He leaned forward and reached for Kyle's arm, inspecting it closely. "I hope it doesn't hurt too much."

"It does, a little. But, to be honest, I kind of like it," Kyle peered at him. "Is that weird?"

"To some people, maybe, but I think it's incredibly sexy," Mark replied, smiling widely. "I'm starting to think that you're perfect for all of this."

"All of what?"

"All of the plans I have for you," Mark replied, sitting back down. "I'm not going to tell you everything I want to do, of course. Really, where's the fun in that?"

"But you can't tell me what this means?" Kyle asked, gesturing between the two of them.

Mark shook his head, his face deadpan. "No, I can't. Why do we have to define anything right now anyway? We're just starting out."

"I don't know, but Rebecca seemed pretty concerned."

"I'm sure she did, but I'll deal with her, Kyle," Mark replied. "Don't worry about that. Why are you down here anyway? If you couldn't sleep why didn't you wake me up?"

"I kind of wanted to be alone so I came down here. I had no idea your sister would be sitting on the couch."

"I didn't peg you as the love 'em and leave 'em type," Mark said, stretching his arms above his head with such intensity that he shivered.

"Give me a break, Mark. I was just trying to collect myself. Besides, you were sleeping so peacefully I didn't want to bother you." Kyle picked up his phone and turned it on; the display read 3:30 am.

"Oh, did you need to call Stan and fill him in on everything?" Mark asked, his face deceptively innocent.

"Fuck off, Mark," Kyle replied. He was disheartened to see that Stan hadn't tried to call him, nor had he sent any texts. He tossed the phone aside and stood up, feeling annoyed by Mark's baiting and what he could only assume was Stan's indifference; not that he could blame him for being distant.

"What's wrong? Lover's quarrel?" Mark asked.

"Stop asking me about Stan, okay? I've already told you that he's none of your business," Kyle replied, walking past Mark towards the Christmas tree. There was an ornament that was slightly askew and it was deeply distracting to Kyle in his agitated frame of mind. Abruptly, Mark reached out and grabbed Kyle's wrist as he passed, and he pulled him onto his lap.

"Sorry, but I'd have to disagree with that statement, Kyle," he said, still holding him tightly. "I'm pretty sure that 'none of your business' bullshit flew out the window the moment I was inside of you."

"You've got to be kidding me," Kyle replied, wincing as Mark squeezed the burgeoning bruises circling his arm. "You don't get to make decisions like that."

"Don't you think open communication is pretty important if we're going to be fucking each other?" Mark asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Could you please not call it that? Why do you have to be so crude?"

"Because I like it."

"Well, I don't," Kyle sniffed, trying unsuccessfully to pull away. He felt Mark's other arm snaking around his body and he lifted Kyle's t-shirt; his hand rubbing his bare skin. Kyle arched his back involuntarily at the sensation.

"I like that you're so polite," Mark said, continuing to stroke Kyle's skin. "I even like how prissy you are; it makes what I do to you that much more fun." He lifted Kyle's arm and kissed his knuckles softly. "So, have you told Stan about what we did?"

"No," Kyle replied, his heartbeat increasing at being on Mark's lap; his lips brushing the skin of his hand and at the sensation of being held so close. "I can't tell him that. I wouldn't even know what to say."

"I could tell you what to say, Kyle," Mark purred, and his dark eyes were calm but cold. "Tell Stan that I shackled you to my bed and I fucked you until you couldn't even think straight."

"How would you even know if I couldn't think straight? You act like you're inside my head," Kyle said, his face burning at Mark's vulgar synopsis.

"Don't you think I am? I saw your face, Kyle; I saw the way you responded to what I was doing. You could barely speak so I'm pretty sure rational thought flew out the window the moment I started." He let go of his arm and touched Kyle's mouth, where the lip was puffy and tender. "I've even tasted your blood; I mean, you have to realize how far down the rabbit hole we've already gone."

Kyle pulled away so Mark couldn't touch his lip anymore, but he managed to grab his face; holding him firmly by the chin so he couldn't turn his head. "Stop resisting, okay? You had your chance to do that and you've clearly made your decision, right?"

Kyle looked into Mark's eyes; eyes that were dark except for the reflection of the Christmas lights, and he knew he was right. He willed himself to relax and he lowered his head, succumbing yet again.

"That's better," Mark said, softly. "Kiss me." He drew Kyle's face down to meet his, and Mark kissed his lips, almost like he was solidifying a deal; an unspoken agreement that Kyle would obey without further protest. "Let's go back to my room."

Nodding, Kyle allowed himself to be led out of the living room, Mark holding his hand loosely as they climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway to his room. Kyle heard a door shut somewhere across the house, and he turned his head at the sound.

"Becky's room is in the eastern wing of the house," Mark explained. "I figured she'd be asleep by now, though. She's so difficult when she gets into a mood." He closed the door softly behind them, the telltale sound of the lock clicking in place. "Usually she won't shut up about whatever's bothering her so I'm not sure why she's being so closed off."

"She did say something about being frustrated with you," Kyle said, as Mark led him over to the bed and instructed him to sit.

"With me?" He asked.

"She doesn't like that you make it so hard for her to make friends," Kyle said, shrugging.

"What the hell does that even mean? She went over to Wendy's house yesterday and I didn't have an issue with it at all."

"Yeah, but you make it hard for her to, you know, date."

"Jesus, this bullshit again. I don't want her getting tangled up with losers, which I've told her point blank." Mark shook his head like he was getting incredibly fed up with this line of discussion.

"Well, to be fair, she doesn't get to dictate who you spend time with," Kyle said.

"That's because I don't have the same history as her. Kyle, you don't want to know all the shit she's gotten herself into. She only has herself to blame, honestly."

"You said you fucked around in the past too, though."

"Yeah, well, not nearly to the same extent as her. Trust me." Mark exhaled. "Let's stop talking about this, okay? This is just getting on my nerves."

"Whatever you say," Kyle said.

"Come on, we're going to take a shower," he announced, grabbing Kyle's hand.

"What, now? In the middle of the night?" Kyle asked, walking into the bathroom behind him.

"Yeah, middle of the night showers are the best," Mark replied, turning on the water. "Especially when you're with another person." He tested the water with his hand until it was a temperature he liked. Turning around, he raised an eyebrow at Kyle. "Take off your clothes."

Kyle crossed his arms and looked around the room, which was lit by a soft bulb that glowed through a gold glass covering; creating a warm atmosphere. It wasn't like the harsh lighting created by naked white bulbs, but it was still too bright in the room for Kyle's tastes.

"What now?" Mark asked, noticing Kyle's hesitation.

"It's just so bright in here," Kyle said.

"For real, Kyle? I've fucked you, and now you're worried about me seeing you naked while we take a shower?" Frowning, he stepped towards Kyle. "Quit being shy and take off your clothes."

"Fine, just give me a second," Kyle said, reaching for the hem of his shirt. Reluctantly, he pulled it up and over his head. Throwing it aside, he put his hand on his hip and stared at Mark, who was still watching him. "Oh, I'm sorry, am I not moving quickly enough for you?"

"No, you're not," Mark said, and he reached out and yanked Kyle's boxers down before he could protest. Leaning in front of him, he slid a hand up Kyle's thigh where it settled on his left ass cheek. Smiling, Mark gave it a light squeeze. "Do you just enjoy being difficult?"

"I thrive on it," Kyle said, stepping out of the boxers and shifting away so Mark was forced to let go of him. Feeling awkward, he rushed into the shower so he could turn away from Mark, whose eyes had been studying Kyle like he was a bug under a magnifying glass. The warm water sluiced over his body and he watched as the steam fogged up the glass walls of the shower, effectively cutting off Mark's ability to see him.

"Did you want me to turn up the water?" Mark asked, stepping in behind him. "Or is this hot enough?"

"It's fine," Kyle replied, keeping his body turned away. He was painfully aware that his ass was on full display for Mark to ogle but it couldn't be helped. After a moment, he felt Mark's arms sliding around his stomach, and he brushed his lips on Kyle's shoulder.

"Isn't this nice?" Mark murmured, close to Kyle's ear.

Kyle nodded, still feeling shy, but enjoying the shiver that raced through his skin when Mark kissed along his shoulder and up his neck.

"Turn around," Mark said, biting Kyle's earlobe softly.

Slowly, Kyle turned to face Mark, who wrapped his arms around him again. The water was washing over Mark's hair, plastering it against his skin and droplets were dripping down his face onto Kyle's. Pulling Kyle close, Mark kissed his forehead.

"I don't know why you're so weird about me seeing you naked," he said. "I like your body." He kissed along Kyle's jawline. "A lot."

"It's just strange," Kyle replied. "You go your whole life making sure people don't see you naked and then all of a sudden you're supposed to be cool about getting naked with a total stranger. It's a lot to get used to pretty quickly."

"That's fair, but we aren't strangers, Kyle. Do I need to remind you that we-"

"Had sex, yes. I remember that," Kyle cut him off.

"I was going to say we fucked, but, yes, what you said is also accurate," Mark smirked.

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Are we actually going to wash or are you just going to keep accosting me?"

Mark's answer was to push Kyle up against the tiled wall and start kissing his mouth until Kyle was gasping, his cock partially-erect. He wound his fingers through Kyle's hair and pulled his head back sharply, coaxing his mouth open with his tongue and deepening the kiss. Mark's hand drifted down Kyle's body and he rubbed his cock until he thought he was going to come, but he stopped right before Kyle could go; leaving him frustrated and pressing against him for more.

"You're right," Mark said, in between kissing Kyle's lips. "We should wash, don't you think?"

Kyle glared at him hatefully, now fully aroused and with adrenaline rushing through his veins. Mark smiled and stepped back, grabbing a bottle of shampoo. He emptied some into his hand and then offered to do the same for Kyle, who held out his hand wordlessly; still scowling. As he washed his hair, Kyle took the opportunity to study Mark's body, suddenly realizing he hadn't really gotten a chance to check him out properly. Mark wasn't muscular the way Stan was, but he had a rugged build that led Kyle to believe he worked out on occasion. He was gracefully lean but he was hard too, and he watched the muscles in his back flex gently as Mark ran his fingers through his hair.

Kyle's eyes drifted downward when Mark turned back to him, over his sinewy belly where they settled on his penis, which was in the process of becoming soft after pushing Kyle up against the wall, where Kyle had felt it brush against his thigh; hard and ready. He didn't really have anything to compare it to, not anything from real life anyway, although he'd seen his fair share of porn, but he supposed it could be considered large. It felt large enough when it was inside of him, at least. The thought caused a twinge of arousal inside of him which he tried to ignore. He also tried to ignore the thought of how Mark's cock might compare to Stan's.

They finished washing and Kyle had to admit that a shower was a good idea; he felt lighter and relaxed. When Mark shut off the water, Kyle was ready to crawl into bed and revel in the feeling of being warm and sleepy; curled up inside Mark's down comforter. Mark, however, had different plans for him.

"What are you doing?" He asked, when Kyle had toweled off and was reaching for the shirt he'd discarded from earlier. He figured it was clean enough to wear to bed at least.

"Putting on a shirt?" Kyle asked.

"Well, yeah, I can see that, but why?"

"Why not?"

Mark just sighed. He gently took the shirt from Kyle's hands and dropped it on the floor, then he took hold of Kyle's arm and steered him back into his bedroom.

"Turn around," he instructed.

Kyle turned away, feeling flushed and apprehensive. He was still completely naked and while he was getting used to it, he still wasn't fully at ease. He obeyed, though, and waited. He heard Mark rustling with something, the sliding of a drawer, and then he was walking back towards him; his footsteps whispering across the carpet.

"Put your arms behind you," Mark said.

Kyle did as he said, but not without his apprehension rising.

"You're really testing my memory tonight," Mark said, softly, and Kyle could feel him drawing his arms closer together behind his back; his wrists touching. "Hopefully I can remember how to do this." Kyle could feel something being wrapped around his arms.

"Remember what?" Kyle asked, his voice faint.

"The single column tie," Mark replied. "It's the first knot I learned but it's been ages since I've had to use it."

Kyle lapsed into silence, not sure how to respond. He waited as Mark worked and he could feel the rope (he was sure it was rope, right?) tightening around his forearms but not so much that it hurt. After awhile, Mark seemed satisfied.

"There, I guess I remembered more than I thought. How does it feel?" He asked, letting go of Kyle. "I tied the rope higher so it doesn't bother the bruises around your wrists."

Kyle tried to draw his arms apart and found that he couldn't; Mark had tied him securely enough that he knew there was no way he was going to be able to break free. Glancing over his shoulder, Kyle looked at Mark but lowered his head when he saw how intensely Mark was staring it him; his eyes practically burning into him.

"Okay, Kyle. I need you to listen, okay?"

Kyle nodded.

"If you want to stop at any point, I want you to say 'red.' That will tell me that you've reached your limit and I need to stop what I'm doing. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Kyle replied, softly.

"Good. Now, what's the safety word, Kyle? I want to hear you say it."

"Red," he said, and he didn't recognize his voice. Who was he becoming?

"Perfect. Now," he trailed off, and Kyle could feel Mark's hands on his shoulders. They gripped his flesh and he was kissing his neck just like he'd done in the shower. Kyle moaned as Mark dragged his tongue along the curve of Kyle's neck where it faded into the top of his collar bone, and his hands fell from his shoulders down to his upper arms; his fingers digging into his skin. Drifting downward, his hands brushed over Kyle's waist and settled on his hips, where the skin was still tender from where Mark had held him before; when he'd entered and claimed him as his own.

Keeping one hand on Kyle's hip, Mark reached around and caressed the front of Kyle's thigh; dangerously close to the soft and tender flesh close to his groin. Kyle whimpered and tried to shift his hips away, but Mark held him fast and his hand continued snaking across that sensitive skin until it settled on top of Kyle's cock, which was quickly becoming hard. Kyle's eyes were closed as Mark stroked him there, and he could feel the heat building up in his blood until he thought he would lose his mind.

Mark's hand stilled and without thinking, Kyle moved his hips forward, imploring him to continue, but Mark let go of him. Instead, he moved around Kyle and kissed him slowly on his mouth; teasing him with his tongue and licking his lower lip.

"Open your eyes," he said, and reluctantly, Kyle complied. Mark sat on the edge of the bed, his legs open and his cock full erect. Vaguely, Kyle decided that it was definitely large, and he didn't really need to speculate further about the heat that Mark was packing. Mark extended his hands and grasped Kyle's hips, drawing him forward.

"Get on your knees," he instructed, his tone gentle. Mark helped Kyle drop to the floor, and he stared at him, his dark eyes drenched with a murky desire. Kyle could only imagine what he looked like to him in that moment; kneeling naked on the floor with his arms tied behind his back. Kyle waited for Mark to give him more instructions, but he stayed silent; gazing at Kyle in his subservient glory.

Without a word, Mark reached out and placed his hands on Kyle's head and he was pushing him down towards his erection, and Kyle knew exactly what he expected. Opening his mouth, he complied, and he didn't fight it when Mark slid his cock between Kyle's lips; pushing Kyle's mouth down onto his hardness until it pushed against the back of his throat. Kyle couldn't help but gag, and he reared back, coughing. He was thankful that Mark was still holding fistfuls of his hair, because if he hadn't been, Kyle would've fallen over without his arms to prop him up.

Mark straightened Kyle out and waited for him to stop coughing. Kyle could hear him laughing softly and Mark was guiding his mouth back to his cock, and Kyle could taste a small amount of cum as his tongue slid over it. The salty flavor was warm in his mouth, and Mark was pushing himself slowly into Kyle's ready wetness, and he was afraid he was going to gag again.

"Don't worry," Mark said, soothingly. "I can tell you're new at this. I won't be so aggressive this time."

With his fingers tangled in his hair, Mark pulled Kyle's mouth over his cock and then pushed him back, repeating this motion over and over, his pace quickening every so often; but never fast enough to make Kyle gag the way he did at the beginning. There were a few times where Mark got too close to the back of Kyle's throat and he would gag a little, but Mark would slide himself out of Kyle's mouth long enough to give him time to recover. Kyle's neck and back started to ache from being pulled back and forth, and there were times that he forgot about his restraints and tried to steady himself with his arms; but the ropes were always there to remind him that Mark was calling the shots.

Mark seemed to have an amazing ability to control himself, and he continued to fuck Kyle's mouth slowly, groaning as Kyle's saliva flowed over his cock and grunting at the sound of Kyle's whimpers when he went particularly deep. Tears were flowing from Kyle's eyes now, and they were mixing with his saliva and Mark's pre-cum as it escaped the corners of Kyle's mouth. Gradually, Mark picked up the pace until he was thrusting into Kyle's mouth with a much quicker rhythm, and his fingers were taut in his hair; urging him forward savagely. Now he was ignoring Kyle's gag reflex, and he was plunging into his mouth hard and fast. Though he knew it was futile, Kyle tried to arch his body away, but Mark held him tighter as he continued to fuck his mouth, and every thrust hit the back of Kyle's throat. Kyle couldn't see anything at this point through the veil of tears pouring relentlessly from his eyes.

Finally, Mark's grip on the back of Kyle's head tightened to the point where Kyle thought he might scream, and Mark's body tensed up and Kyle just knew; he knew Mark was ready, and he was pulling back helplessly. Mark gave one final, brutal thrust, and he was emptying his come into Kyle's mouth, who had no choice but to swallow it, even though he hated the taste and the way it coated his tongue. Mercifully, Mark let him go before he was done so Kyle was able to pull away, but Mark's come sprayed across his face, and it was hot on his flesh; searing across his lips and his cheek. Kyle's gasped as he reared back, and he thought that his legs would give out beneath him.

Mark's panting breaths filled the room, and he reached forward and crushed Kyle to him, and his lips found his; bruised and sensitive. Ignoring his come on Kyle's lips, Mark kissed him and drew him up from the floor, where he pushed him on his back onto the bed. Kyle lay there, with Mark's semen on his face and his hands tied fast behind his back and he never felt more exposed and aroused. He had no idea what Mark was doing to him but he loved it; he loved the rope rubbing against his skin and he loved it as Mark pulled his legs open; revealing him further. Kyle loved the sensation of not being able to move and not being able to shield himself from Mark. He looked up at Mark as he panted and knew that his eyes were giving him away more than his words ever could; that he needed to be consumed completely whether he explicitly agreed to it or not.

Through the soft darkness, Kyle saw Mark looming over him, and he felt Mark rubbing his cock even though he was ready and erect and needing him so badly. Kyle arched off of the bed when he felt Mark's wet, hot mouth close over him and he was bucking his hips as Mark drew him in and out. Mark's hands were on hips again and Kyle even enjoyed the way the skin ached there now, from being gripped and pulled; he loved Mark's hands on him, directing and guiding him. Kyle moaned with a desperate need as he felt Mark's tongue licking at the underside of his cock, sliding up and then swirling over the aching, sensitive head. Mark drew him completely into his mouth and he felt the tip of his cock brushing the back of Mark's throat and suddenly, he was overcome, and he was writhing against Mark's mouth as he convulsed and came; his cries filling up the silent room.

Finally, he was spent and they lay there in the darkness, their breaths still coming heavy and fast as they began to calm down. Kyle stretched out his arms behind his back and he relished the feeling of being helpless, and he found even the rasp of the rope against his skin erotic beyond words. The smell of their sex filled his nostrils and it was almost enough to make him want to go again, but his body was exhausted and throbbing; sleep was on the edges of his awareness and he knew he couldn't fight it much longer. Vaguely, he could see the velvety beginnings of dawn crawling through the dark blue of the early morning sky outside the windows.

"It's morning," he murmured.

Mark glanced over and he too saw the dark cerulean hints of the sun's approach and the night's decline. He groaned and sat up, but he took a moment to gaze down at Kyle, whose posture was decidedly supine in the aftermath of their erotic delectation. He slid a hand along Kyle's body and tweaked a nipple, smiling at the way he gasped.

"I guess we have to sleep eventually," Mark said, and he eased Kyle onto his stomach so he could untie him.

Later, after they had washed up and they were under Mark's dark blue comforter, Kyle could feel the pleasant and persistent throb in his arms from the rope and he couldn't help but smile. Mark's arms were wrapped around him, and even when Kyle tried to move away Mark moved with him; possessing him even in his sleep. He already knew that when he woke up in the morning or in the early afternoon, and he had time to look down at his body, at the skin that Mark had ravaged for half the night, he'd be covered in bruises. The tender places on his body were already beginning to pulse but he sunk into the sensation; he lost himself in the feeling of giving himself up to Mark completely. Who knew giving into debauchery could be so satisfying?


	12. Chapter 12

Notes: How far down does the rabbit hole go? Pretty far, apparently, lol. :D

 **"My darling, I have awakened you from a century's sleep, and restored your father's Kingdom. You're mine. And you won't find me such a hard master. Only a very thorough master. When you think night and day and every moment only of pleasing me, things will be very easy for you."** **-The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty by Anne Rice**

Kyle woke up slowly, the sound of the shower reaching his ears and making him think it had started to rain. He kept his eyes closed for awhile as he started to warm up to the idea of getting out of bed, and vaguely he was aware that there was no way it was raining; it would be snowing, if anything. It was easy to forget how cold it was outside, nestled in Mark's blankets and cocooned in this castle far away from the ice and snow. Rising from the soft confines of sleep, his brain waking in stages, Kyle finally opened his eyes to face the day.

Mark was walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips, his hair moist at the ends. He noticed that Kyle was awake and smiled.

"Good morning," he said. "I was hoping you'd be awake; I left the shower running for you." He went to the dresser and started rifling through one of the drawers.

Kyle sat up and rubbed the sleep dust from his eyes, blinking them clear against the brightness of the morning. "What time is it?"

"A little after 10," Mark replied, pulling a t-shirt on. "Come on, get up and take a shower. We've almost wasted the entire morning already."

Groaning, Kyle climbed out of bed, shying away from the chilly air permeating the room. It didn't help that he'd slept naked, mainly because Mark had told him he preferred him that way. "I can't stand early risers," he muttered, making his way toward the bathroom.

"10 am is hardly early, Kyle." Mark was buttoning a pair of jeans as he spoke; finishing with that, he opened the closet to grab a hoody. "I'm not tired at all."

"You'll have to forgive me if I'm not razor sharp after being tied up half the night," Kyle retorted.

"Are you saying we need to build up your stamina? Kyle, you don't have to threaten me with a good time, you know."

"Whatever." Kyle walked into the bathroom where it was pleasantly warm, the air scented with soap and humid against his skin. Stepping into the shower, he was glad to close the door and just stand there as the water washed over his body. The aches were coming alive in him, in his skin, and the warmth helped to ease them away. It was no big surprise to look down and see the bruises on his arms and around his wrists; twisting, he could see the violet shadows left on his hips from Mark's fingers.

He lapsed into a moment of reflection as he studied his flesh, and he was brought back to another time when he'd been bathing and noticed the marks obscuring him; marring the landscape of his body. When he'd seen them before he'd been afraid and confused, and he was confused now, but exhilaration had replaced the fear; he liked seeing the bruises now. They were reminders of what he'd done with Mark, and silent promises of what they'd do in the future. It was hard for Kyle to reconcile his usual no-nonsense approach to life with this innate need to be dominated and owned by Mark, but it was there, undeniable, and he felt compelled to surrender. He smiled to himself; he supposed he already had.

His thoughts drifted to Stan and a shard of sadness entered his heart, wounding him. He missed Stan, of course; his sweetness and his loyalty. Stan's love for him was boyish and borne in childhood, so he doubted that it could travel to the dark regions he was exploring with Mark. A part of himself had awakened and when it opened its eyes, the piece of him that had hungered for Stan had fallen asleep; a raging monster was feeding inside him now, and it hungered for blood and pain and acquiescence. Kyle was in a place where Stan couldn't follow, and he didn't know how he'd ever be able to tell him anything about it; about what he'd already done.

"Kyle, are you okay in there?" Mark's voice carried through the room, startling him.

"I-I'm fine," he answered, hurriedly turning off the water. Through the glass he could see Mark's blurry form, waiting. He stepped out of the shower and quickly swathed himself with a towel.

"I just wanted to let you know that I set out a toothbrush for you and a change of clothes," Mark said, looking at him curiously. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," Kyle said, sharply. He took a breath. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Well, okay. Let me know if you need anything," Mark said, leaving the room.

Kyle noticed that he didn't bother to close the door, which didn't surprise him. Boundaries were not exactly Mark's cup of tea. Kyle slipped into the boxers and snug green t-shirt that Mark had laid out for him. He noticed that he hadn't provided any pants but that made sense; any pair of Mark's pants would be ridiculously long on Kyle. Instead, he put on his jeans from yesterday, wincing slightly when the material touched his bruises. He brushed his teeth and tried to do something with his hair but gave it up as a lost cause; the red curls had always had a life of their own.

"Let's go out for breakfast," Mark said, when Kyle walked out of the bathroom. "Becky left a note saying she'd be gone for the day; probably with Wendy or whatever," he said, waving his hand carelessly, "and mom had an early case this morning, so it's just you and me."

"Sure," Kyle replied, digging through Mark's dresser and pulling out a pair of socks. "That sounds fine. Oh, I'm borrowing some socks, by the way," he said, holding them up for Mark to see. He sat on the edge of the bed to put them on but he paused, thinking. "Wait, where did you want to go?"

Mark shrugged. "What about Harbucks? You seem to like that place."

"I'm not even going to ask how you know that, but, still, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?" Mark asked, raising his eyebrows.

"A lot of people go there," Kyle said, awkwardly.

"Well, it is a restaurant, Kyle. That's kind of the idea."

"I mean, a lot of my friends go there," Kyle said, looking away. Mark didn't respond for a moment and he glanced at him, and he saw that Mark's eyes were full of understanding, but irritation, too.

"What difference does that make?" He asked, softly.

"It would just be weird for everyone to see us together," Kyle tried to explain, sounding awful even to himself.

"Who cares? I don't give a shit what any of your friends think," Mark said. He was putting his belt on as he spoke, the leather whispering through the loops. "Besides, for all they know we're just friends having coffee together. What's the problem here?"

Kyle watched him put his belt on and he could feel his anxiety start to spike. None of his friends were particularly fond of Mark, and more than anything he didn't want someone seeing them together and then blabbing to Stan. He knew it didn't really matter as much now, considering Stan had broken up with him, but Kyle still didn't want to deal with all of the confusion being seen with Mark could create.

"What, are you worried about Stan seeing us?" Mark asked, pulling his belt through the buckle and beginning to fasten it. "I thought you guys broke up."

Kyle could feel himself blanch when Mark said that, and he stood up restlessly; pacing the floor. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Save it, Kyle. I know you two broke up," Mark said, running a hand through his still wet hair. "You haven't been all over each other at school, for one thing, and secondly," he smirked, knowingly, "there's no way you would've let me fuck you if you'd still been with Stan. You're a man of morals, aren't you?" He laughed.

"If you already knew we broke up why were you getting on my case about calling Stan last night?" Kyle asked, furious at the way Mark was laughing at him and the way he was always able to peg him; like there wasn't a secret he could hope to keep from him.

"It's fun to mess with you, Kyle," Mark replied, still laughing. "You take yourself so seriously; it's nice to see you at a loss for words." He walked over and kissed Kyle on his mouth before he could protest. "Besides, you're adorable when you're pissed off."

Kyle pushed him away, annoyed. "You are so fucking manipulative, Mark. Can't you just fucking be nice for two seconds?"

Mark considered the question. "Yes, on occasion, I guess. It's not really my preference. Besides," he pulled Kyle into a tight hug, "you like it when I'm mean. Don't lie."

"No, I don't," Kyle said, refusing to reciprocate the hug. "You're the reason Stan and I broke up in the first place, so stop being a fucking asshole, okay?" He managed to break away from Mark and he sat on the bed, not willing to look at him. Silence descended on the room and Kyle waited, not knowing what to do next.

"I'm sorry if I made things difficult between you and Stan," Mark finally said, and Kyle could feel the bed move as he sat next to him. He still refused to look at him, though. "That really wasn't my intention."

"Wasn't it, though?" Kyle said, crossing his arms. "You always managed to find a way to interfere; you were always fucking there."

"Mainly because I thought we were friends, Kyle," Mark said, quietly, and the sadness in his voice tore at Kyle's heart. "At least, I wanted to be, but I never knew what was going on with you."

Kyle finally turned to look at him, and he locked eyes with Mark; in the milky morning light they were velvety dark and vulnerable. "Bullshit," he said, already feeling himself beginning to crumble. "You kissed me even when you knew Stan and I were together. You just didn't care. And then, even after I told you about my suspicions, you still, you still..."

Mark put his arms around Kyle's waist and pulled him closer, slowly, as Kyle tried to find the words to finish his statement. "I'm not going to lie and say I didn't want you for myself, Kyle," he said, kissing his temple and his cheekbone; fervent little touches of his lips that set Kyle's heart to racing. "Maybe I didn't go about it in the right way, but it was always because I wanted you, period."

"Well, now you have me but at what cost?" Kyle asked, as he gave in and opened his mouth eagerly to Mark's, and their tongues were sliding together. He pulled away, sighing. "I broke Stan's heart and you're breaking mine, so I guess we both lose and you win." They continued to kiss and Kyle could feel himself becoming hard; breaking apart under Mark's touch, and he tried, desperately, to come up for air and think clearly.

"You always do this," he said, interrupting the kiss and turning away; denying Mark his lips. "I try to talk to you and you start kissing me and then we never actually finish a conversation. I'm telling you that I broke up with someone I really loved; love, actually, for you, and it doesn't seem to faze you."

"It does faze me, Kyle, but this is a lot to hear at once," Mark replied. "Can I be honest with you? I love someone, too, very much. In fact, I'm in the process of loving them and trying to deal with my feelings so I know how you feel. At least, I think I do." He stood up and it was his turn to walk the floor, desperately pacing like he wanted to outrun the feelings that were always there and waiting. "I didn't think I would start feeling this way about you, not to this extent, anyway. Sure, you mouthed off to me and I wanted to fuck you because I could tell you needed it, but now, Christ," he trailed off, still pacing.

"Wait, this all started because of what?" Kyle thought a moment, recollection dawning within him. "Are you saying you started all this because of what happened at tutoring that day? When I yelled at you?"

"Partially," Mark said. "You made an ass of me in front of everyone, Kyle. What? Did you think I was thrilled about that?"

"But, you said you agreed with me," Kyle protested. "You said I was right."

"You were," Mark said. "That doesn't mean I enjoyed being called out in front of everyone; especially over that moron, Malcolm. That kid is never going to pass Algebra, even with my help."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you need to treat him like shit," Kyle retorted.

Mark laughed. "See, there you go again; Kyle to the rescue. I'm pretty sure you'll never change."

Kyle stared at him. "You can't stand being crossed, can you? Contradicted?"

"I'm not used to it," Mark said. "When you got in my face I really just wanted to knock you out, but you're cute, so after I started talking to you I thought I could screw you down a couple pegs, and that'd help you loosen up, and it would sooth my ego." He sighed. "But then I started getting to know you and I became more invested; don't ask me why. I have fun with you, so I want to spend more time with you. Maybe it's that simple, I really don't know."

Kyle looked away, shy at the knowledge that Mark's motivations were sexual almost from the beginning, but also disturbed that they were steeped in aggression, too. But he supposed that was in line with Mark's personality, and his incessant need to be the puppeteer pulling the strings, whether they be Kyle's or anyone else he took an interest in. "How did we manage to get here, just from talking about where we should go for breakfast?" He asked, smiling a little.

"It beats the hell out of me," Mark replied, "but I'm pretty sure I need to fuck you before we go anywhere." He stopped pacing and glanced at Kyle. "How are you feeling?"

Kyle flushed, knowing what Mark was really asking. "A little sore, but it isn't too bad."

"Fine, then I can do this the way I want," Mark replied, and he was coming over to Kyle, his eyes intense and focused; his face determined. Grabbing Kyle, he kissed him, but his lips didn't linger; rather, they were hot and impatient, and Kyle could tell that Mark wasn't going to take his time during this go around.

"Stand up and turn around," Mark said, kissing Kyle's mouth fervently; his lips hard and wet and scorching.

Kyle complied wordlessly, the light inside of him lit and burning. He could feel Mark undoing his jeans and pushing them down, along with his boxers; sliding them over his hips and down his thighs. Mark pushed him towards the bed but not so he was laying down, rather, he was leaning over with his hands on the mattress; his ass up in the air. Kyle gasped when he felt Mark's fingers stretching him open, and they felt slick and wet.

"Usually, I'd like to prepare you more," Mark was saying as his fingers delved inside of Kyle, his voice deep and thick, "but if you're going to mouth off like this, you're just going to have to deal with the consequences, aren't you?"

Through the haze that had settled over his brain, Kyle wanted to ask what he'd said to illicit this reaction, but before he could even open his lips, he could feel Mark entering him; the motion fast and savage. Mark was inside of him now, and his searing thrusts rocked him forward against the bed, but he braced himself and managed to stay standing; his hands curled up in the bed covers. He could feel hands holding onto his hips, covering the bruises already there, and he moaned from feeling Mark inside of him; but he also dissolved in pleasure at the pressure of Mark's fingers on his freshly-forming battle scars.

Kyle was surprised when he realized that Mark had actually been gentle before, but this time he was plunging into him like he had something to prove. He only prayed that he could manage to hold himself up until Mark was done, but with every movement that propelled him forward, he was afraid that his legs would crumple beneath him; but he willed himself to keep going. Biting his lip, Kyle could taste blood as he opened up the cut from the night before, and the metallic flavor filled his mouth.

He was ready to start begging for leniency when Mark began speeding up, and Kyle knew that he was getting close. Mark's grip on his hip bones intensified until Kyle cried out, and suddenly Mark was groaning and rocking him forward, that familiar burning sensation filling him up until he thought he was going to ignite from the inside out. Every thrust that accompanied Mark's orgasm seemed to drive a very specific message home to Kyle; that Mark was in charge and he had no problem showing it. Whimpering, he leaned forward until his cheek was resting against the bed, and he waited until Mark was done. He closed his eyes as the sound of Mark's ragged breaths echoed around the room, and he was pulling out of Kyle, leaving him feeling wide open but so empty; wanting and used.

A sharp slap on his ass made Kyle's eyes shoot open and he was trying to stand up, but Mark's hand came to rest on the back of his neck; keeping him in place. "Hold still," he said, still breathing heavily. "I'll clean you off." Kyle heard footsteps as Mark walked away and then he was back, and a damp, warm washcloth was being passed over Kyle's skin; soothing the area and wiping away Mark's come. Mark squeezed his hip lightly and Kyle felt a kiss being pressed on the nape of his neck.

"You're okay now," Mark said. He was wiping himself down too and then he was pulling his jeans back up and buttoning them.

Kyle watched him from over his shoulder and then he eased himself off the bed, his hips and backside pulsing. He adjusted his clothing while watching Mark wearily, but he was all smiles; apparently in a very good mood now that he'd gotten his rocks off.

"So, are you ready to go?" He asked, cheerfully.

"Where?" Kyle asked, accepting the hoody that Mark offered him.

"To Harbucks." Mark was grabbing his wallet and car keys from his desk, as well as his black coat.

"I told you I didn't really feel comfortable going there," Kyle said, zipping up his sweater. "Can't we go somewhere else?"

"No, Harbucks is fine," Mark replied, taking Kyle's hand and leading him out of the room. "Can you get the door? I don't like leaving it open."

Kyle closed the door but he resisted as Mark continued to pull him down the hallway. They had made it down the stairs and into the foyer before Kyle was able to get Mark's attention.

"Mark, you aren't listening to me. I don't want to go there," Kyle said. Mark was rooting through the closet for Kyle's coat. Finding it, he handed it to him.

"Kyle, you're being ridiculous. So, your friends might see us out together? And? You said yourself that you and Stan are broken up, so what does it matter that you're seen with me?"

"I just don't want to deal with it," Kyle said, stubbornly.

"What, are you ashamed to be seen with me?" Mark asked.

"No, of course not, I just-"

"Then what's the issue?" Mark cut him off and raised an eyebrow. His hand was resting on the door handle, ready to turn it.

"Fine, you win. We'll go to Harbucks," Kyle said, sighing. "But if we see anyone and they make things awkward you're going to deal with it."

"That's fine, Kyle. I've never had an issue with telling someone to mind their own fucking business," Mark replied, closing the door behind them as they stepped out into the cold. His car was waiting in the circular drive, its windows frosted with ice. Climbing in, Mark turned on the car, making sure to turn up the heat as high as it would go. Shivering, Kyle waited for it to warm up.

"Here, I'll turn on the seat warmers," Mark said.

"What kind of car is this anyway?" Kyle asked, realizing he'd never shown an interest before.

"Do you really care?" Mark asked, surprised.

"Not especially, but I just thought I'd ask."

"It's a Jaguar XJ," he replied. "My mom gave it to me when I got my license. She's always been a Jaguar enthusiast for whatever reason." He shrugged his shoulders. "It doesn't really make a difference to me either way."

Kyle nodded, admiring the buttery leather seats and the sleekness of the interior, but he wasn't terribly interested in cars either. He knew damn well he wouldn't get a luxury car when he got his license so he really didn't feel the need to become invested in them. Any car was better than walking his ass all over creation for the rest of his life.

"Finally," Mark muttered, as the vents started emitting warm air, and the biting chill was fading away. Pulling out of the drive, he hit a button on a small remote clipped to the visor above him and the gates at the bottom of the hill opened as they drove up to them. They passed through and Mark maneuvered the car out onto the road, the frosty trees and houses sliding past on either side of them.

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

"I guess so," Kyle replied. "I usually just have coffee in the morning, though."

"I'm honestly surprised you haven't just wasted away," Mark said, coming to a stop at a red light. "You have the appetite of a 45 year old trophy wife."

"That's an oddly specific comparison."

"Yeah, well, it's true. I'm starving. I think I'm going to get a bagel with cream cheese and lox."

"That sounds good, actually," Kyle commented. He was still feeling nervous about going out with Mark, so his appetite was on the fence. Another thought occurred to him out of nowhere that concerned him, too. "Hey, hold the phone. You didn't let me get off back there."

"What?"

"You got to, you know, finish when we did it before we left, but I didn't." He pouted. "That's not fair."

"You're just noticing that now? Well, it's a little late to do anything about it at the moment, don't you think?" Mark asked, looking over at him.

Kyle just looked out the window instead of responding.

"Besides, you didn't deserve to come," Mark said, matter-of-factly. "You were being punished."

Kyle whipped his head around. "Punished? For what?" He asked, his voice shrill.

"For being a smart ass. We talked about this, Kyle. Remember?" The light turned green and Mark pulled forward, avoiding a car that tried its best to cut him off. "Look at that motherfucker," he said. "Some fucking people, I swear to God."

"Don't try to change the subject," Kyle said, annoyed.

"I'm not. You have a habit of mouthing off, Kyle. What, do you think you should be rewarded for that?"

"Actually, I do. I'm not going to apologize for being exceptional when it comes to turn of phrase."

"See, that right there is why you weren't given the opportunity to come," Mark said, turning the car into the Harbuck's parking lot. "You'd be just as satisfied as I am right now if you could just knock that shit off." He parked and turned the car off.

"You aren't really going to do stuff like that every time you decide you don't like my attitude, are you?" Kyle asked, not moving to get out.

"In a heartbeat," Mark replied, opening his door. He got out and went around the car to open Kyle's door as well. "Come on, let's go."

Kyle crossed his arms and stayed seated, still pouting.

Sighing, Mark leaned down so they were face to face. "I understand that you're upset right now, okay, but let's go inside and talk about this. It's fucking -4 degrees out here and I'm hungry, too. Now move." He held out his hand.

For a moment, Kyle looked at Mark's outstretched hand with distaste but reluctantly, he took it, and climbed out of the car. The cold almost took his breath away, and suddenly he was grateful that at least the wind had died down since the day before. Mark held his hand as they walked towards the Harbucks.

"I don't think we should walk in holding hands," Kyle said, gently disentangling himself.

Mark just rolled his eyes in response and opened the door, waiting for Kyle to enter first. Kyle almost protested this gesture as well but he decided to just let it go. Walking into the Harbucks, he was relieved to see that it was pretty empty and that they'd missed the early morning breakfast crowd. His heart seized up in his chest when he saw Tweek working the front counter, though. That meant that Craig had to be around somewhere; you could bet that wherever Tweek was, Craig wasn't too far behind.

"What do you want?" Mark asked, coming to stand beside him.

"Just a latte," Kyle replied. "I don't really feel like eating right now."

"Okay. I always order too much so we can share if you change your mind. Go find a table." Mark started pulling his wallet out of his pocket.

"I'm buying this time, remember?" Kyle asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah. That's right." Mark pulled out a ten dollar bill anyway. "Here." He handed it to Kyle, who took it with a questioning look. "I want an espresso, an everything bagel with cream cheese and lox, and a cinnamon roll. I'm pretty sure all of that and your latte is going to cost more than 10 bucks, so you can supplement that with your own money."

"That's not really the same as my treating you," Kyle said, trying to hand the money back.

Mark refused to take it. "I'll go get a table; remember, espresso, bagel with lox, and a cinnamon roll. Got it?"

"I think I can remember one breakfast order," Kyle replied, annoyed.

"Sounds good," Mark walked away, leaving him alone at the counter. By this time, Tweek had noticed Kyle and he was looking at him expectantly.

"Hey, Tweek," Kyle said, walking closer. Tweek looked harried as usual, but with Craig's influence he was at least buttoning up his shirt properly these days. Kyle could see his hand shaking a little as it rested on the register.

"Morning," he replied. "What can I get for you? Ah!" He convulsed but righted himself quickly.

"Uh, yeah, I'd like a large sugar-free vanilla latte with almond milk, and then," Kyle glanced over his shoulder and saw that Mark had found a table in the corner and was looking at his phone. Suddenly, he glanced up, saw Kyle watching him, and he waved. Kyle turned back around, a little flustered now. "Um, I'll also take an everything bagel with cream cheese and lox, an espresso, and a cinnamon roll, and that's it."

"Do you want the bagel toasted?" Tweek asked as he worked the register.

"I don't know," Kyle said, even more flustered now. He glanced at Mark again, but he was absorbed in his phone. "Whatever, just toast it."

"Sure thing. Did you want a sparkling water, too? It helps cleanse the palate before drinking your espresso."

"Sure, fine. Go ahead," Kyle replied. "How much is everything?"

"That'll be," Tweek hit another button, pausing. "$20.52, please. Is this for here or to go?"

"It's for here. Can I pay part of the bill with cash and the rest on my card?" Kyle asked, opening his wallet.

"Sure, ah!" Tweek reached out his hand. Kyle hesitated for a moment but he handed Mark's ten to him, feeling uneasy. Tweek took it, punched a button on the register and then looked at him. "Okay, now you can insert your card."

Kyle paid the rest of the bill, feeling better after he'd taken care of his portion. Tweek handed him a receipt and told him the order number and then started on Kyle's latte.

"So," he said, "Stan isn't with you this morning?"

Kyle started a little. "No, I think he's probably working."

"Oh," Tweek replied, working quickly and surprisingly not knocking anything over with his shaky hands. "I didn't know you hung out with Mark."

"Well, I guess I do on occasion," Kyle said, sharply.

"Hmm." With a flourish, he spooned foam onto Kyle's latte. He placed the cup on a saucer and pushed it carefully across the counter. "There you go, ah! The rest of your order should be up shortly." He grinned at Kyle, but there was something in his expression that irked him.

"Thanks," Kyle said, picking up his cup. As he walked over to where Mark was sitting Craig walked into the shop, bringing a blast of icy air with him. Kyle could smell cigarette smoke clinging to him and he wrinkled his nose. Noticing Kyle, he stared at him in his deadpan way.

"Hey," he said, looking around. "Where's Stan?"

Kyle shifted a little and his latte sloshed over the side of the cup. Now he was starting to feel really irritated. "He isn't here," he replied.

"Oh, you're by yourself?"

"No, okay? I'm with someone else. Now if you'll excuse me." Kyle walked away, taking care not to move too quickly so he wouldn't spill more of his drink. He made it to the table where he put his cup down with a huff.

"Is there a problem?" Mark asked, looking up.

"Tweek and Craig are here," Kyle snapped, blowing on his latte. "I told you this was a bad idea."

"Will you relax? I'm sure they don't give a crap about what we're doing," Mark said, setting his phone on the table.

"Right, that's why they both asked me where Stan is," Kyle replied. He picked up his drink and took a timid sip.

"Just ignore them then."

"That's easier said than done."

Suddenly, Tweek called out their order number, and Kyle set his drink down; preparing to stand up. Mark placed a hand on his arm, firmly.

"I'll get it," he said, rising. Kyle watched him as he made his way to the counter where Tweek was waiting. Craig was leaning against the display case, looking at Mark, too. Mark went to pick up the tray but he stopped a moment, seemingly saying something to them, but Kyle couldn't make out his words. Their shocked expressions spoke volumes, though. Craig even looked angry, and Kyle knew it wasn't everyday that he displayed any kind of emotion.

"What did you say to them?" Kyle asked, when Mark had made it back to their table and sat down.

"I told them to mind their own fucking business," Mark said, lightly. "You bought me a water, too?"

"Uh, yeah," Kyle managed to say. "It's supposed to cleanse your palate or something. Before you drink your espresso. Wait, you said that to them?"

"Well, that's interesting," he said, setting it aside. "But unnecessary. Are you going to want some of this?" He held up his bagel.

"Maybe," Kyle replied, impatiently. "Mark, what did you say to them exactly?"

"I already told you, to fucking mind their own business. Oh, this is good," he said, after taking a big bite of bagel.

"Just like that?"

Mark held up a finger while he chewed and swallowed. "Yeah, just like that. I already told you I have no problem telling people to stay in their lane, Kyle. What, did you think I was kidding?" He took another bite.

"Well, no, but I didn't think you'd put it quite that way," Kyle replied, and he took another tiny sip of his latte.

"Why shouldn't I? I don't care what they think, and they were bothering you, so," he shrugged. "I told them to fuck off."

"I'm starting to think you're a misanthrope."

Mark considered this for a moment as he took a drink of espresso. "I'd have to disagree. I have contempt for a large portion of society, but I don't dislike society entirely. I like you, for example." He grinned and drank some more.

Kyle blushed. "Right, that's why you punish me for, how did you put it again? Mouthing off?"

"That's for your own good, though," he said. "Come on, try some of this; you'll love it." Mark held out a piece of bagel, the plump, pink lox resting in the cream cheese.

"Ugh, fine, if it'll get you to back off," Kyle said, taking it. He popped it in his mouth and made an exaggerated display of chewing. "You're right, it's delicious, okay?"

"There you go being a wise ass again," Mark smiled, picking up the cinnamon bun. "It'll be fun helping you curb that, by the way."

"Yeah, for you," Kyle grumbled, but he couldn't help but feel intrigued by the idea. "So, what, do you just expect me to capitulate without questioning you at all?"

"No, not necessarily. I just expect you to speak to me with respect. That isn't asking too much, is it? That's pretty standard for a submissive."

The blush on Kyle's cheeks ignited until he felt like his face was a lit match. "I'm not submissive," he said, faintly.

"Yes, you are, Kyle. I know you like to think that you're in control all the time, and I'm sure that you are when it comes to school or whatever, but in the bedroom and in your heart, you're a natural born submissive." Mark broke off a piece of cinnamon roll. "You've responded to everything I've done with almost no protest and you liked it, didn't you? The belt, the handcuffs, the rope. You liked it all."

Kyle stared down at the remnants of his latte and turned his words over in his mind, not sure what to say. Clearly this was territory Mark knew very well, but it was all new to him. He had enjoyed being restrained, he had even enjoyed, no, welcomed, the pain, but Mark was asking even more from him than what they'd done in the bedroom. What could he possibly say?

"If this really wasn't for you, Kyle, you would've already said so. Hell, you probably would've told me to go fuck myself and never spoken to me again after the belt incident, but yet, here we are, having brunch on a Saturday morning after I tied you up and fucked you not once, but twice. So, what does that tell you?" Mark sat back in his chair, waiting for Kyle to respond.

Kyle was silent for a time, thinking. Finally, he took a deep breath and asked, "So, what exactly do you want from me?"

Mark's eyes widened, but minutely; enough to show Kyle that he'd heard the note of partial acceptance in Kyle's voice. "Obedience, mainly, and the opportunity to have this type of relationship with you. I enjoy your company, Kyle, and I really do want to get to know you better. But, on the flip side, I want to train you to suit my tastes."

"Why can't we just have a normal relationship?" Kyle asked.

"You had what could probably be considered a normal relationship with Stan, didn't you? Did you enjoy that?"

"Well, yes, but then I couldn't concentrate on him once you came around," Kyle admitted.

"I wonder why," Mark said, grinning. "You were bored, Kyle. Plain and simple."

"Does this mean that we're dating?" Kyle asked, still feeling a little skittish about the whole affair.

"Essentially, but we'll just have different rules than a typical couple."

"Like what?"

"Well, you already obey very nicely in the bedroom; I mean, you slip up on occasion but we'll continue to work on that, naturally. I guess I just want you to listen to me, and when I tell you to do something I want you to do it. I won't tell you to do anything that isn't good for you, of course, but I would like a little less push back."

"So, basically you get to be on a power trip and I'm just along for the ride?" Kyle asked, finishing the last drops of his latte.

Mark brushed his dark hair off of his forehead and his eyes flashed; a greedy light stealing across them. He smiled but it was more like a leer, transforming his face into that of a predator. "I've already told you that I want you, Kyle, and I meant that. I want to own you, all of you, but I can't do that without you agreeing to it, as much as that pains me to say. So, instead of making your little offhand quips why don't you tell me what you want; I'm dying to hear it."

Kyle was disturbed that Mark could turn on a dime like, one moment seeming amused and laid-back and before he knew it, it was like he was being consumed by a manic darkness. He studied his handsome face and his dark eyes, resisting the pull of them; of being ensnared and trapped. Even so, Kyle felt himself being captivated, and in the intimate lighting of the Harbucks he studied the bruises on his wrists, and remembered why they were there.

"How does that saying go?" He finally asked, softly. "If I'm in for a penny I might as well be in for a pound? Is that it?"

"Not exactly, but I know what you mean. So, is that your answer?"

Kyle nodded, looking down at the table.

"Wonderful! Now that that's settled," Mark said, shifting abruptly in that trying way he had, "try some of this cinnamon roll. It's delicious." He held out a piece.

Kyle eyed it wearily, not really wanting to eat more, but he took it anyway. Placing it in his mouth, he chewed and swallowed.

"See what I mean?" Mark asked.

"Sure," Kyle said, glancing over at the front counter. Tweek was prepping something but Craig was staring at them, his eyes narrowed. Quickly, Kyle looked away, afraid that he'd heard everything they'd been talking about, but he knew it couldn't be possible.

"Are you done?" Mark asked, taking one last drink of espresso.

"Yes," Kyle replied, looking down at the table again.

"Then let's go. There's something I want to buy for you," Mark said, and he stood. They cleared their table and as they were walking towards the door, Mark took Kyle's hand.

"If I want to hold your hand in public, I will," he said, squeezing Kyle's fingers a little.

This time, Kyle didn't protest.


End file.
